


Another Stark Episode

by DarthWriter



Series: A long way toward making you mine [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Break Up, Cheating, Depression, Domestic Violence, Drug Abuse, Drug-Induced Sex, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Established Relationship, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fighting, Heavy Angst, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lies, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Physical Abuse, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Relationship Issues, Rough Sex, Self-Destructive Behavior, Self-Hatred, Self-Worth Issues, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Violence, Suicidal Thoughts, Unreliable Narrator, Violence, Watersports, Younger Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:15:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27284773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthWriter/pseuds/DarthWriter
Summary: Interlude: Chapters 22 and 23 from Tony's POV.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Tony Stark/Other(s)
Series: A long way toward making you mine [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1898233
Comments: 12
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.
> 
> This is what happens when I'm feeling depressed... Sorry about that.
> 
> Don't read! (Unless you really really wanna know)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you really intend to do this, you might probably want to skim through chapter 22 again beforehand....

"You're sure you don't wanna come?" Tony asked excitedly on the phone.

Pepper sighed for the nth time but he knew she was more amused than annoyed. Sighing was second language to Pepper and Tony had known her for too long not to be able to decipher the meaning behind every one of her sighs. 

"I told you I have a date." She said in a falsely exasperated tone. 

"Yeah but... " He pouted but couldn't keep the excitement off his voice. "It's Steve's first vernissage. You can't miss that!" Every time he said that, he felt butterflies tickling his stomach. He just needed to grin stupidly and beamed with pride. 

"Steve's vernissage is tomorrow. Tonight's just a party. I'll come and see it later."

"It won't be the same... And Steve won't be here to explain. Come on! It's gonna be fun. With a lot of alcohol."

"Steve _works_ there..." Pepper reminded him. "And I'm fine skipping the drinking fest altogether. You just want me there as emotional support because all of Steve's friends are gonna be there and you're having kittens."

Tony's heart missed a beat. Right... Maybe a little. He really hated that Pepper knew him so well. "They're gonna hate me." He admitted, sounding a little childish, even to his own ears. "I need at least one person on my side."

Pepper sighed again, a gentle, comforting sigh. "They're not gonna hate you, Tony. Besides, you already know all of them. And you'll be nice and funny and charming just like you know how to be, and you'll _behave,_ and they will love you."

"I don't know _all of_ them. I've just met some of them once or twice and I don't even remember well... And Sam and Bucky already hate me anyway. And their opinions are the most important among all his friends' in Steve's eyes.

Pepper didn't sigh. She remained silent and Tony heard her swallow into the phone before she spoke again. "Well I'm sorry to tell you that..." She said with a hoarse sympathetic voice. "But you brought this upon yourself, Tony."

Tony felt a pang in his chest. He knew he had fucked up, thank you very much. Tony fucked up, period. Tony wasn't a good person. He was selfish and he ruined everything he touched. Steve knew Tony was fucked up and he accepted him anyway. He had insisted when Tony gave him an out. Tony really wished he could give Steve was he wanted but what Steve wanted was so out of his reach he would never be able to. He _knew_ that he shouldn't call Steve whenever he fucked up. Steve had no business cleaning up his own mess. No-one did. He _knew_ he shouldn't burden Steve with his self-induced shit, but the thing was... Steve was the first person Tony wanted to be with when he was down. And he was down a lot lately... Besides, if he didn't call Steve, who would he call? Rhodey was in deployment. And Pepper had made it clear she didn't want to be involved, had explicitly said that she loved him but didn't give a fuck anymore. If Tony wanted to die in his own vomit, that was his choice, Tony was no longer her problem. He couldn't blame her...

Steve was the only one Tony could count on. And Steve made him happy. And he wanted to make Steve happy too. He really did.

"I know." His hurting voice managed to croak out.

"That being said," Pepper concluded with her usual curt and bossy tone. "It's not like you've ever been ashamed of your shitty behavior before so you're gonna pull your head out of your ass and take fucking responsibility for it and you'll go to this party with your head high."

Tony knew why he called Pepper every time. She had always been the best to screw his head right— _rightish?_ Even if that hurt a little sometimes.

Pepper was right, as always. Tony hung up and felt something fluttering in his stomach. His lips unintentionally quirked up, he willed them down and got back to work. He needed to finish this early so he would have the time to go home and get changed and be on time. He owed this to Steve.

"Pepper?"

"What again?" 

"Do you think Steve would like flowers? 

"Everyone likes flowers."

"Isn't it a bit too cheesy?" 

Tony heard his friend chuckle discreetly. "I'm pretty sure Steve would love it if you gave him flowers."

"Right... What should I go for? Red roses is definitely too much, right?"

"Amaryllises." 

"What do they mean? Are they beautiful at least?"

"That you're proud of him. And yes, Tony, they're beautiful. Don't you trust me? Unless—"

"—I do."

"—you'd like to give him an "I'm sorry" bouquet? Then, go for purple Hyacinths."

Tony remained silent. Speechless. "I just wanna make him happy." He finally said. 

"Then just go there and don't be late."

Right...

Tony spent about another half-an-hour on the symbolism of flowers and was even more lost than he was before so he decided to trust Pepper in the end, because one amaryllises were beautiful indeed, he believed, and two he _was_ proud of Steve. Besides, they weren't too obvious and Tony didn't want to be too obvious.

He got back to work but then dialed Pepper's number one last time.

"What should I wear?"

This time Pepper's long sigh really sounded like annoyance. 

"Steve likes you in the horrendous rags you dare call clothes and wear all the time when you tinker. He'll probably like in you anything you wear, Tony."

"I mean should I go casual, or formal? Steve likes me in my work clothes, I think. At least his eyes seem to say so when I get ready for work. Wait... _Anything?_ Should I not wear anything?"

Pepper let out an exasperated grunt at the other end of the phone. "Argh, Tony. This is just a friendly gathering with a lot of drugs and booze involved. Just wear whatever you wear every time you see him. Be yourself! You're not even trying to impress him."

"But that won't go with the flowers, will it?"

Pepper let out another long sigh. "I don't know, sweetheart." She whispered in her sweetest voice. "Just go naked if you want and see if I care. It's not like you ever asked my opinion on how to dress every time you went to fuck him behind my back, right? I'm certain you can figure this one out yourself. Enjoy your date."

Tony pouted and remembered it wasn't gonna work on her since he was on the phone. "That was uncalled for."

"I have a date myself tonight, Tony. Remember? And I'd like to be able to finish work and plan my evening too. Have a good night!"

"Should I bring chocolate too? Steve loves chocolate. Champagne?"

"Goodbye Tony. Say hi to Steve for me."

Tony put his phone down and span around on the caster wheels of his office chair. A shudder of excitement ran throughout his body. He was ecstatic. Celebrating Steve's success... it was huge. Tony was so proud. His boyfriend was finally earning the recognition he deserved. Tony had nothing to do with it but he still saw it as a personal victory. Personal by proxy. At least, things were going great for one of them. Steve deserved it. He deserved the world. 

He deserved better...

Flowers were ordered. He knew what he was gonna wear. Plus, he had prepared a little surprise for later. When they would be alone. And he had done everything on his own, for once. He was rather proud of himself. He stared at his phone. No sign from Steve whatsoever, Tony was restless. Steve never texted, never called—except to tell him off—but... Tony wished he would sometimes, just to be sure. After all, they hadn't talked about it again. Not after last week anyway... Of course he could call himself but he didn't dare. Every time he called Steve he felt like he was bothering him. He had written his text ten times at least and chickened out before pressing send.

Well, he would go anyway, pretend nothing had happened, flash his best innocent smile and force his way in, just like he had always done until now. After all, Tony's forwardness and persistence had proved themselves to be rather efficient so far. He stared at his phone again. He really needed to work now. He'd like to take break and have a smoke though... This was so boring, why did dear old dad insist on him working here? He was already learning all the ropes with Obie. His place was in R&D. Not here, getting bored, his potential rotting away. He didn't have the shoulders to carry this company high anyway. He had no wish to either. 

His phone buzzed. His heart raced. Steve? 

He glanced at his phone quickly but it wasn't Steve. Just his dad's PA. The disappointment almost wore him out. He didn't even read the text. The rest of the afternoon was going to be long.

"Expecting an important call, son?" 

Tony startled. There was something very wrong with that sentence and that particular voice talking to him at this precise moment at this very place. Since when did his dad move his lazy ass down here to see what Tony was up to for himself?

Tony raised his eyes, his heart thumped in his chest but not for the right reasons this time. He was met with Howard's disgusting smirk. He stared into his eyes defiantly and looked down his work, pretending to ignore the asshole. "What can I do for you, _Sir?"_

"Such a formal greeting from my own flesh and blood."

Tony gritted his teeth. Even the soft tone of his voice rubbed him the wrong way. "What do you want, dad?"

"Just making sure you'll be finished with your project by tonight. We're expected at 7."

Past the annoyance at yet again an outward show of distrust from dear old dad, the last part of Howard's sentence finally came down to him. "What?" His heart dropped and started racing, in a moment of panic. "What do you mean we're _expected?"_

"Dinner tonight. 7pm. Private investors. We're going to negotiate a potential new contract with them. Make me proud. "

The expression on his face was probably reflecting how he felt at this very moment, horrified. His voice was almost shivering when he asked. "Since when?" He could feel his heart beating at his temples.

"What do you mean "since when"? Since when is that kind of information relevant to you? I need you to come tonight, end of. And you'll show them your progresses on the project. It will be good for you to meet our clients. It is time for me to start introducing you."

Tony looked up and hated himself because his eyes were probably pleading right now, and his jaw was trembling, but he couldn't help himself. "I can't." He whispered, words almost stuck in his throat.

"I beg your pardon?" Tony glanced up at his father startled expression but it soon turned into a nasty grin. He laughed and it sounded evil. "I think there might have been a misunderstanding, son. Were you really under the impression that I was giving you the choice?"

Tony felt his blood leave his body instantly. His father was sending him death glares. The coldness of his voice felt like an icy shower.

Tony knew better than try to provoke Howard with futile acts of rebellion. He was too old for aimless teenage impertinence. Shut his mouth and look down was the best move right now. Even so... it was for Steve. And Steve would never be such a coward. Steve would never be anyone's puppet. Tony could do better.

He stood up and stared back into Howard's eyes. He was terrified though. Tony might be taller than Howard now, he might box like a pro and know self-defense like anyone else in this tower, deep inside he was shaking like a leaf. He could still feel the mark of his father's fingers on his cheek, the heat after a blow. He still flinched in anticipation. "No." He muttered through his teeth. "I'm not going." He held his stare and maybe Howard was unsettled, for a quarter of a second. He frowned at him and crossed his arms. Tony shivered, he was waiting for it. It would hurt but he was used to pain.

"You're not going..." Howard repeated skeptically, arms still crossed. He didn't move but his body was tense and Tony could see the anger flaring in his eyes.

" _I have plans_ , dad." Tony shouted and he sounded a little too much like he was asking for permission. "I've made them _weeks_ ago. I can't cancel now."

Howard burst out laughing, arms still crossed on his chest. "And what plans of yours exactly are worth jeopardizing a three million dollars contract?"

Tony had nothing to answer for himself. Except that he didn't give a shit about million dollars contracts. That he didn't live for money. That his boyfriend, Steve, lived in a dump, ate plain pasta everyday, had been struggling with two fucking jobs to meet ends before and that he was happier Howard had ever been in his life. Tony wouldn't mind giving it all up to live that life with Steve. He couldn't say that to Howard though. Howard would never understand.

He really didn't want to but he lowered his head anyway, instinctively. One couldn't stand up to Howard for that long and not fear the worst. "You don't need me there to sign the contract. You know enough of the project to present it yourself. I can meet with them another time if that's so important to you."

Something like melancholic fondness flashed in Howard's eyes and unsettled Tony for a moment. He had rarely seen that kind of expression on his father's face before. For a moment, Howard's smile was almost gentle. Howard tilted his head on the side and gestured to Tony to come. "Come here, son." He said softly. Tony complied, for lack of a better option. He felt wary though, Howard wasn't inclined to showing affection freely. 

His father curled his arm around Tony in a paternal pat and tightened his embrace, pulling Tony close to him gently. That was the kind of embrace younger Tony would have craved for. Now, if it didn't repel him exactly, it made him uneasy. Tony felt more comfortable with Howard's violent fits than his gentleness. At least, he knew what to expect with the former.

"I know how you're feeling right now." Howard's sugary voice said. "I've been young too, you know. But let me tell you this, as father to son... what you deem absolutely essential right now, will seem completely insignificant in a few weeks... A few months, at most. By the time you reach my age, you'll have eaten so many asses you'll realize they all taste the same. We're _Starks!_ Your great grand father built this company from the ground. When he came to this country he had nothing. Your grand father helped us win the war. Imagine a world where Hitler hasn't been defeated." He suggested while adding a large movement to his arm to emphasize his point.

Howard paused, solemnly, and skirted around Tony to face him. He grabbed his face in his two hands, the touch was meant to be gentle but Tony felt it burn like red-hot branding iron. His father looked up into his eyes and stared at him domineeringly. "That's what your grand father built for us son, and I've devoted my whole life to carry out his legacy. I've dedicated my time, my genius, everything I owned, to help protect our country and its values. This is _your_ legacy, Tony. This is your _destiny."_

Tony stared down at his father, gritting his teeth. It was a matter of beliefs, he thought, but they had always had a major difference of opinion on the matter. Tony didn't take any pride knowing his grand father participated in the Manhattan Project. Two hundred and fifty thousand casualties and millions of long-term victims was not what he considered a great achievement. Neither was war profiteering and weaponizing. Not that whatever he thought mattered to Howard. He did wonder though if his father truly believed himself in what he was saying. Did he really think that kind of Manichaean speech would have an impact on Tony? Or was it just an excuse, a way to keep the illusion alive... All Tony understood from that grand speech was that if he had thought, even for one second, that he might have had just an ounce of freedom in this so-called father-son relationship, he had been thoroughly wrong. His whole demeanor yielded against his will and Tony looked at his father resignedly.

The silence lingered.

Howard gave him an affectionate tap on the cheek and stared at him firmly, raising an eyebrow and showing Tony a self-satisfied smile. "Now, this is what you're gonna do," he kept on, tone cold and inflexible. "You're gonna call that girlfriend of yours, tell her you've got a family emergency—it always works—and fulfill your duty as my son and rightful heir of this company. This is what I've paid your tuitions for, after all..." He added on a more down-to-earth note. Howard perversely liked to guilt-trip Tony and constantly remind him everything he owed his parents. He wasn't even surprised. "Make me proud, Tony. I know you can do it." He said softly with a gentle, falsely concerned tone. "This is not by chance that you were born into this family, son. You're destined to do great things, like all of us. You're brilliant." Howard never complimented him, that was a sick joke to do it now, Tony thought, he had already surrendered. His father must really enjoy twisting the knife into the wound, force Tony down on his knees and hold his head down under his boot, to make sure he soundly broke him. "This is why you _chose_ to be born a Stark. Because you _knew_ that was your best chances at fulfilling your potential." 

Again, mild divergence of opinion. Had Tony ever believed once that he could have chosen his parents, they would have been at the very bottom of his list but that didn't really matter. What was quite unexpected however, coming from Howard, was how, with his scientific and rational mind, he had come down with bullshit like this... Or was that part of him already long gone and only remained a conceited, egotistic man, completely disconnected from the reality of this world?

"Now," Howard commanded, providentially, "get back to work." And he patted his son on the shoulder, smugly proud of having humiliated his son once again. Tony clenched his fists and almost bit his tongue in an attempt to control his boiling rage. He would have preferred Howard to hit him because this honeyed, falsely affectionate act that only asserted his dominance over Tony was way worse than any blow he had ever given him. The fire must still be burning in his eyes because his father showed him a condescending smirk. "And don't give me that look... You'll have plenty of time to fuck all the girls—and boys for that matter—you want. Just set your priorities straight. That's all I'm asking."

There was no-one he had ever hated as much as he hated Howard right now. 

A surge of rage ran throughout his body and made him shudder. How he had managed to keep enough self-control not to punch the smug smile off the bastard's face was still a mystery to him. Maybe that was those invisible shackles that restrained him. His could feel his hands shake and ground his teeth to subdue the slight tremor in his jaw. He was glad his body had been drained of any tears for years for once, because surely Howard would have loved seeing them prickle at the corner of his eyes. 

It was only when Howard left his office that Tony noticed that Obie had been watching the entire scene. He was leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed on his broad chest, and looked at him with an amused though slightly supportive smile. The way he stared at him gave Tony shivers, not the same kind. If Howard had put shackles on his ankles and wrists, Obie had put one on his neck. One even more inescapable. Perverse and insidious.

Tony lowered his head and looked down, feeling the bile coming up at the back of his throat. His entire body shivered with conflicted feelings. As if the humiliation hadn't been painful enough already. Obie had to be a witness of it all. Tony dared a quick glance up into the man's eyes but turned his head immediately, as if his gaze was burning him. The tall man walked up to him. Tony had grown up a lot in size but Obie was still taller, broader and much more impressive than Tony would ever be. He put a strong hand on his shoulder and Tony flinched a little before melting into the warmth of it. Obie had always tempered the conflictual relationship Tony and his father had. He had always been there to coddle him afterwards, to tend to his wounds, physical or otherwise. This hadn't changed. Obie gave him a comforting fatherly smile. "Don't be mad at your father, Tony." He muttered with a deep sugary voice, one that both ignited and repulsed him. "He just wants the best for you."

Tony looked away, like a shamefaced child. He felt uneasy in Obie's presence. He felt small and helpless. 

"Deep down you know he's right." Obie added with the same concerned and supportive expression on his face. "You know where your responsibilities lie." His hand crept up Tony's neck, an insignificant gesture yet so meaningful, a possessive and inescapable grasp. One that said Obie had all the rights to Tony's life and death. Tony stared up into his eyes, desperate and imploring, despite himself. "Don't ruin everything for a fling."

Obie's eyes were piercing, both gentle and threatening. 

"I'm just meeting friends." Tony choked out, as if the invisible shackle on his neck was effectively strangling him. Why did he feel compelled to justify himself to Obie? 

The man's smile was incredulous when he ran his thumb on the skin of Tony's neck, soothing the pain of that invisible shackle. "No longer, you're not." He said assertively, a dangerous grin on his lips. "You'll do what your father asked you to do. Make him proud, Tony boy. Do it for your sake, and for ours. You can do it. I trust you." His voice was deep and low and gentle and vibrated low in Tony's core.

Obie had always known how to speak to Tony, how to _tame_ him. And there was something in Tony that constrained him to lean into the touch and indulge in it. Obie's thick fingers were as bold as to brush the line of his jaw slightly. Tony instinctively parted his lips and gazed up at him, like drawn to him by an invisible force. The man smirked, self-satisfied by the way he had marked Tony as his with such a simple and intimate gesture. He saw in Tony's silently pleading eyes how he would do everything the man had told him to do and snorted before patting the crook of his neck. "Good boy." He said before leaving the room.

Tony's entire body shuddered when the man left. He was more shaken than ever and felt like retching. A mix of anger, aversion, confusion and forbidden desire pooling in his stomach. He needed to throw up. He needed to hit something. Everything. For a moment, he saw himself destroying every single thing that happened to be in his office. He did nothing of the sort however, too conscientious, too... _obedient_. He swallowed the bile inside and clenched his fist and his jaw while shaking with rage, until it passed. Until he resigned and complied.

When it passed, desolation completely frazzled him. He dropped his entire upper body on his desk in despair. _Steve..._ He needed to call Steve. 

And say what? The _truth?_

That Tony was a coward? His dad's puppet? A wimp? 

He thought again about the painting his boyfriend had offered him for his birthday. A portrait of him flying, insouciant, _free._ A portrait of him through Steve's eyes. Tony loved how Steve saw him. He didn't hate himself in Steve's eyes. Little did Steve know how unfree Tony was though. His freedom only went as far as Howard and Obie let the leash loose. It only needed a little tug from them and Tony was kneeling down obediently at their feet. That realization made him freeze for a moment. He felt breathless and incapable of any move. And then he felt nauseous. He was pathetic. 

In a fit of anger he canceled everything he had planned for Steve. What was the point? And then he took his phone, willing to call him, and chickened out again. Steve was gonna be mad and he couldn't take it. Not in his current state. So he went back to work and made a point at pleasing dear old dad. Even better, he would surpass his expectations, shame him with pride.

His residual rage mixed with new found enthusiasm and the will to fight, no matter what, allowed him to be surprisingly efficient. To the point he almost hoped at some point that he would be able to bail out on dinner and get away with it, thanks to his brilliance. His new found enthusiasm was quickly dampened though, caught up with reality soon enough. Howard didn't give a shit about his presentation. He just wanted him there. He just wanted to show them how docile and subservient his son was. There was no way Tony would ever be able to skip dinner.

He needed to call Steve... He _really_ needed to call Steve. He needed to be strong enough and let him know, at least. 

When he finally gathered up the courage to do so, he realized Steve had already called, three times. His heart made a leap. Steve had called after all... The surge of excitement was short-lived however. Besides, why hadn't Tony heard his phone?

Then he remembered he had programmed JARVIS to send Steve to voicemail every time Howard or Obie were in immediate proximity. Neither of them need know of Steve's existence. It was bad enough they had both guessed Tony had someone important in his life, important enough at least to dare standing up to them. Tony had always had a nasty rebellious streak but both men had managed to dampen his spirit by systematically squashing his miserable attempts. This was most certainly going to bite him back in the ass soon and he needed to be more careful in the future, granted Tony would be able to keep Steve in his life long enough for anything to happen, of course. Which was very unlikely.

A shiver ran down his spine when he realized Steve had coincidentally called when Howard, and then Obie, were in his office. As if he had been here as well, a witness of it all. Was fate playing a nasty trick on him? To get back at Tony for not believing in it? Another surge of despair crushed him down. The humiliation still scorched him, the rage still boiled and pooled inside. His helplessness and cowardice made him nauseous but every time he tried to break free he could feel the shackles hold him down.

He swallowed his bile again and took a deep, determined breath before he finally pressed 'call,' heart racing in his chest, blooming with the slight hope Steve might be understanding, even just a little.

Steve was _mad._

As predicted. Tony had only needed to hear the tone of his voice and the way he uttered his name when he answered his phone to know. He sighed but mustered up the courage to open his mouth anyway. 

Steve was _really_ mad.

Tony was exhausting himself trying to justify the unjustifiable. He couldn't blame his boyfriend for being mad. He had nothing to say for himself, truly nothing. He just... He had been counting on Steve's usually patient and forgiving nature a little, hoping he wouldn't have to fight for the third time today, but Steve didn't seem to be inclined to show him either. Who could blame him? Certainly not Tony.

He wished Steve's words weren't so biting though. His boyfriend was particularly mean right now, probably because he had been grudgy for quite some time already. This went way deeper than just missing the party. Steve had reasonable reasons to be mad at Tony. What could he say? He had no excuse for his behavior, no acceptable explanation for trashing his face or fucking that girl. Only that Tony fucked up. He was selfish and he fucked up. But don't ask him why, he couldn't tell himself.

Tony's heart drifted away during the entire phone call. He was tired and weary. His breathing was unusually fast and a little jerky, he tried to hide it. His chest was heaving. He couldn't even fight back, because he had already lost. Steve reproached him things he had insisted he accepted. Tony could just shut his mouth and take it, that was all he was good for anyway.

So his boyfriend wasn't all that accepting after all. It wasn't particularly surprising, Tony had probably always known but it still hurt, he just hated himself for hoping. Honestly whatever they had was bound to fail, one way or another, he knew that. Therefore he swallowed his shame, his crushing disappointment and his pain. Steve words hurt, like thousands needles. Steve probably didn't realize it but each one of his biting remarks had struck a particular chord in Tony but never mind, he was used to it. He deserved it.

It was almost a relief when Steve hung up on him. Except Steve's last remark made him retch. Oh how he _would_ 'enjoy dinner with daddy,' indeed. What a laugh. 

The aftermath of it really crushed him down however. He felt something cold and distressing spreading up in his chest, his good old friend anxiety creeping up and overwhelming. For a moment he stared dejectedly at his screen, distraught, unable to move.

He felt suddenly terribly, terribly lonely. Alone, abandoned and helpless in a way he hadn't felt in a long long time. Not since he was still a child. 

He was losing him... 

He was losing Steve. If not today then soon. How could he not? Steve gave him everything and he couldn't give anything back. He kept pushing him away. How long until Steve gave up on him like Pepper had? Steve would be much better off without him anyway. Steve deserved so much better than a disappointment like him. He was a mess.

Tony was absolutely devastated when Steve broke up with him the first time. How would he survive the second time?

He paused, silencing his internal freaking out for a moment. He would, probably.

And he should get back to work now anyway. After all, Tony had a glorious destiny to fulfill, hadn't he?

No pressure. Not at all.

As expected, dinner was just a pretext to get intoxicated and maintain good professional relationships. The contract was practically a done deal. Tony had talked about three minutes at most and didn't even have the time to present the basics. It didn't matter that he had busted his ass off the entire afternoon for this fucking presentation. He was curtly cut short by his own begetter under the superior stares and mocking laughs of the round table. He swallowed his pride and pushed the unnecessary feeling of uselessness that kept bugging him at the back of his head.

His presence was absolutely not needed, just like he had thought. Tony was only there to indulge a bunch of crass middle-aged men, laugh crudely at their bawdy and offensive jokes—not to say racist, misogynistic and just plainly revolting—and entertain them with casual business talk with the little he knew about the subject. After all, not his area of expertise. Tony knew how to be charming nevertheless, maybe that was enough.

He spent a long moment of boredom watching his dad gulping down one drink after another, laughing forcibly to hide the bitterness pooling in his hazy eyes, and wondered if he was inevitably going to follow the same path. After all, alcoholism was supposed to be genetic, partly, and Tony was already sipping his fifth drink when he was barely legal. Was his grandfather a drunk too? Everybody probably drank heavily in the past ,anyway. What about his great grandfather? He had never had the chance to ask. He would probably never dare either, knowing Howard. Were all his ancestors a long lineage of cynical and drunk assholes? Was he looking at his older self, right now? The idea was utterly depressing.

He wondered if Howard had always been so blasé or if he used to be an idealistic when he was young. Had ever been in love? Had he ever been ecstatic about anything? Were was the excitement? Where was the enthusiasm? Where was the little twinkle of futuristic genius that used to shine in his eyes? His father used to be inventive even if Tony had never seen it with his own eyes. Tony only knew the dull drunken glow of his father's eyes. Or the delirious violent rage that sometimes fired in them. He suddenly felt sad for him, despite everything. He felt sad and sorry and prayed very hard to himself to never end up like him. 

Dinner passed by woefully and Tony soon realized no-one cared that he was there or not. He didn't even have it in him to be resentful. He just wanted to get the fuck away from there as soon as possible. Perhaps he could sneak out discreetly. He kept staring at his phone, of course no sign from Steve would magically appear on his screen but he couldn't help looking at the time. It was still early... and a sudden sliver of hope brightened Tony's evening. Perhaps he could still make it. Without the flowers, sure, but he still had his charms and his cute apologetic smile for himself and for one, he was actually looking really great in his dark grey tuxedo. Going was still better than not going anyway and if Steve told him to fuck off then, well, at least he would have tried. Even mad Steve and his pack of spiteful friends would be better company than his current one.

Besides, he really wanted to see his boyfriend. After all, Steve hadn't broken up with him yet. Not explicitly anyway. If he had, Tony could still pretend he didn't know. Maybe Steve's presence would help soothing the growing uneasiness he felt inside. A surge of excitement grew rapidly in stomach. He felt restless. His knees started to shake nervously under the table. He had to find a way to go.

He was actively in the process of elaborating the best strategy when he felt a strong and warm possessive hand on his knee, forcibly stopping the shaking and anchoring him to his seat. Obie didn't even look at him but his hold was firm and inescapable and it spread warmth inside Tony's body like a disease, to the point of embarrassment. Tony suddenly felt hot and flustered and he hated his body for being so responsive to the man's touch. He took off his jacket and wriggled uncomfortably on his seat. He wasn't hard yet, but almost, and secretly wished for the man's hand to creep up his thigh, against his own will and rational thoughts. Obie's hand remained on his knee however, with a grip just strong enough to remind him he wasn't free.

Tony felt nauseous.

He looked at his phone again and waited patiently until the second course arrived for Obie to inadvertently remove his hand and he rushed to bathroom. He freshened up his face and waited for his body to calm down, for the growing cold uneasiness he felt inside to fade. He realized his hands were shaking. He realized he was scared and was disgusted with himself. He washed up one last time, hiding himself in his hands for a little too long, thinking about Steve, and jerked up when he heard the bathroom door burst open.

Obie was there, grinning at him with all his threatening teeth out. His eyes had lost the supportive gentleness he had shown Tony all day long. They were wanton, glimmering with perverse lust, piercing through him like two long nails pinning him against the wall. Tony froze and stared at him warily. His lips parted as an unwanted, sordid desire pooled at the bottom of his stomach at the way the man's stare was undressing him.

"Planning to leave early, are you?" Obie said with his deep low voice. "That would be extremely rude to our guests, Tony boy. Don't you think?" His fingers gently brushed the bottom of his chin as he spoke, drawing a gasp out of Tony, which made him smirk. "Still so responsive... How cute!"

He was still frozen as Obie's impressive built came closer. He was trapped and his heart started racing. His breathing accelerated and in a moment of weakness, despite himself, he looked at the man pleadingly, silently begging him to let him go. He didn't want this to happen, he realized. No matter how responsive his body was to the man. He _did not_ want this to happen. He wanted to see Steve. "Please..." He unwillingly let escape in a shuddering breath, looking away.

But the man's strong hand clutched his neck and brutally pushed him against the wall behind him. He huffed out a grunt and cringed with pain when his head hit the tiles. This time he was really, literally, pinned against the wall and he turned his head, unable to hold the man's wanton glare. He felt shivers up and down his spine and his chest started heaving heavily as he was losing his breath. His entire body was shaking. 

Obie's face was very close, only inches away, and Tony could smell his foul alcoholic breath when he spoke. "Please what, boy?" He whispered through his teeth, inching closer. He tightened his grip around Tony's neck, strangling him, pressing him against the wall with his strong bulk. Tony wriggled in his hand, trying to find balance, trying to breathe. "You think you can do what you want?"

The hand pressed harder, making Tony's head spin with the lack of air, and pulled his head up until he had to tiptoe for his feet to keep touching the ground. He was completely at the man's mercy, his life literally between his hands. Indeed, theoretically, he could probably escape this situation. Theoretically, he was strong enough to free himself from the man's grasp, except... he _couldn't._

He couldn't do anything but plead and beg and comply, paralyzed with fear and desire. Equally repulsed, equally aroused. 

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." Obie whispered while shaking his head. "Get down on your knees, boy." 

Tony had a strange moment of reluctance. He didn't know why but his first reflex was to clench his fist and grit his teeth in an illusive protest. Obie must have seen the fire in his eyes, his response was immediate. Tony suddenly felt a strong and dominant slap on his face. One meant to hurt. Enough to slap the last of his reluctance away, to remind him whom he belonged to. His face was yanked on the side, turning his eyes away. His cheek burnt.

Tony felt a soothing hand on his face, tugging on his chin. "You know I don't like hitting you, Tony." Obie,'s sugary voice said. "I'm not like your father. So don't make me do it. "On your knees." He repeated, this time his voice was pervaded with anger. His hand gave a brutal pull to his shirt and tore off the first buttons in the process. 

Tony didn't need to be asked twice. He had perfectly understood the first time. He dropped on his knees. A weird feeling pooled in his stomach however, something uncomfortable and upsetting. 

He brought shaky hands to the man's pants and unbuckled his belt with unsure fingers. He looked up and the satisfied smug on Obie's face told Tony he was doing the right thing so he kept on and tugged on his underwear. The briefs slid down the man's thighs, giving off a nauseating smell. Tony was a little repelled at first but opened his mouth anyway. It was far from the worst thing that had ever been into his mouth. Besides, his tongue knew the shape perfectly well, every vein, every nerve. His mouth had grown up around that cock, giving it tentative lapping at the beginning until he was able to swallow it down his throat without gagging. 

That was what he did, with the intention to make Obie feel good, hoping he might be satisfied with coming in his mouth and let him go. Obie's cock was half-hard when he closed his lips around it but grew rapidly, invading his mouth and choking him. It wasn't as pleasant as it should be. Tony wasn't usually shy around cocks, he had been well trained, but the reluctance seemed to pervade and he was struggling to enjoy the moment. Maybe because he couldn't keep Steve out of his mind and he didn't like it when he thought about Steve with someone else's dick in his mouth. He tried to forget about Steve and made a point at giving the man the best blowjob of his life even if he didn't take any pleasure in it. It wouldn't be the first time either. Happened more often than not, Tony had just never really realized.

Obie let out a lewd moan as he thrust into his throat. "Mmmh. I like your enthusiasm, boy." He said while his hand delicately cupped his jaw and pushed him away. "but I won't be able to hold it in if you keep going like this."

That was when he understood Obie didn't want to come, he just wanted to submit Tony and humiliate him. There was no way he would be able to skip the fuck whatsoever. He let his arms fall on his sides, a little desperately, and stared into space when the man grabbed his biceps to haul him up on his feet. He felt like marshmallow, drained of all his strength, and didn't protest when Obie hurled him into one of the stalls. His shoulder hurt with the way Obie had brutally manhandled him, the rest of his body hurt after he stumbled and knocked himself against the toilet bowl and the tiled wall. He was struggling to keep straight, wavering on shaky legs, unusually distressed. He unbuckled his belt instinctively, he thought, or maybe Obie made him do it, he wasn't sure to remember well. He was already quite intoxicated, things were blurry. He remembered his chest heaving heavily, his breathing accelerated. He remembered the shivers he felt running up and down his spine, not the good kind. He was scared.

Obie's resolute hand pushed on his back to bend him over. Tony caught himself on the wall before falling over the toilet bowl and splayed his two hands against the tiles. He was tall enough to stand on his feet now, even if he had to tiptoe. His legs were shaking and Tony shuddered when the man tugged his pants down and grabbed his hips possessively. 

Tony wished Obie would have, at least, used his spit as lubricant. He didn't. He didn't prepare him either. He didn't even hold his dick to make sure he was aiming right. He just gave a brutal thrust, trying to sink into him. Tony was too tight though, unable to open up for him, Obie barely dipped the tip. The man knew though, that he was the only who had ever fucked Tony in the ass, that he remembered of anyway, and excluding the ones Obie himself had given Tony to, obviously. Therefore, he should know that it had been a while for him, they didn't do it as often as they used to. Only when he had to make a point, like tonight apparently.

Tony cringed and clenched his jaw to smother a scream of pain. He didn't want to give him the satisfaction. The ache was agonizing and Tony almost shed a tear, unexpectedly. He didn't remember when it had ever hurt that much, not even the first time had been that painful. Obie did not care one bit however, he kept thrusting, forcing Tony open, pounding into him until he was buried to the hilt. His cock felt like a burning stake, tearing his insides apart. Each one of his thrust spread the burning ache in his entire body. He ground his teeth and bit his tongue not to wail with the pain. Tony usually liked it when it hurt, he thought, but this was too much. On the upside, he didn't think about Steve anymore.

It wasn't enough for Obie apparently and he pushed harder on Tony's back to make him fall on his knees, which was almost relieving because Tony wasn't sure his shaky legs would have held him much longer. His knees hit the tiled floor and hurt. The man used that moment of confusion to grab Tony's wrists in one strong and powerful hand and pushed his head into the toilet bowl, at least it was relatively clean... He held his head down into the water until Tony choked and kept pounding into him. The slide was easier now, as if Tony had somehow self-lubricated, and he started feeling it. Because, yeah, he was fucked-up like that. He didn't have the time to enjoy himself however because Obie grunted and jerked inside of him. Tony knew he had come. It had only lasted a few minutes.

The man quickly stood up and pulled his pants back up, leaving Tony lying half-naked and filled with cum on the toilet bowl, as if nothing had happened.

Tony wished he could do the same, he usually did, but he was absolutely incapable of moving a limb now.

His entire body started shaking uncontrollably, alternately freezing and burning. He had no strength left and lay there, paralyzed. He felt suddenly very distressed, invaded by an overwhelming anxiety. His chest constricted and he couldn't breathe properly. He started hyperventilating, breathing heavily and erratically. There was a painful lump growing expandingly in his chest and up into his throat, choking him. He wanted to cry, and to scream, but he had no tears and no voice. He was only silently choking on the putrid air of the bathroom, wheezing and shuddering all over, the pain he felt in his entire body excruciating.

He tried to move at first but every time he attempted to push himself up he was barely able to lift a few inches of himself off the toilet bowl and inexorably fell back on it as if the shackles tied him to the bowl, so he gave up and lay there, agonizing. His stomach roiled and he felt sick. He wanted to cry, so much, maybe he whimpered softly, he wasn't sure. He was still shaking. He didn't want to get up anyway. To do what? He might as well spend the rest of his life there, chained to that bowl, covered in cum and piss and shit and ready to satisfy anyone who wanted. That was all he was good for anyway.

_He had just wanted to make Steve happy..._

Obie kicked him in the thigh. "Get a grip on yourself, boy. You have a dinner to attend to."

Tony let out a painful shuddering breath, still shaking, and fell on the side. He was still unable to move a limb. He didn't even have enough strength in himself to pull his pants up, so Obie's hands caught him and hauled him up. The brusque movement made Tony retch with the sudden, excruciating need to throw up. The man gently held him up above the bowl while he puked the five or so drinks he had had at dinner.

Throwing up helped, he could finally breathe again but not much more. All he felt was a dull numbness now. Obie pulled him up on his feet and leant him against the wall as he was wavering. He straightened him up, manhandling him like he was a puppet and dressed him. He pulled his pants back up and buckled his belt, buttoned up his shirt—what was left of it, anyway—and flattened his clothes with warm hands on his chest. The gentle treatment gave Tony's body some of its life back and he could almost stand on his own now. Obie went to fetch a few towel to wipe his mouth and his face clean.

When he was done cleaning Tony up, he brushed gentle fingers into his hair and fondled his cheek. His eyes were gentle and supportive again, a glimpse of concern pooling in them. Tony turned his head away to avoid the man's stare. 

"I was too rough on you, wasn't I?" The man whispered concernedly. 

Tony didn't answer but the warmth and gentleness in his voice made his heart leap. Two strong hands cupped his face delicately and turned his head back, forcing Tony to look at him even if he didn't want to.

"You're taking too much liberty, Tony." Obie justified himself. "You're an adult now. Your insolence stopped being cute."

Tony looked down and nodded silently. He had recovered enough of his strength now, even though the uneasiness wouldn't go away, crushing him down relentlessly. He let himself fall into the man's fatherly embrace and snuggled against him, seeking the safety and comfort that his arms used to be to him. Obie indulged him for a short moment, he curled his arms around him protectively, pressing Tony against the warmth of his body. Only for a short moment, Tony's heart had barely started to settle down when he pushed him away, grabbing his face again. 

"Pull yourself together now, son. You're the new face of Stark Industry. You need to keep your head up. Be a good son and make your father proud, uh?"

Tony shivered, already regretting the warmth of the man's body, he was still shaken. He stared a little defiantly at the man. He had understood the message perfectly well, thank you.

"My hands are tied, boy. I have to make this company thrive, and between you and your father's shenanigans, I've got a lot to handle. Now, make it a little easier for me, okay?" He gave Tony a warm and gentle kiss on the lips that almost felt like Tony was loved. Tony gasped and parted his lips when the kiss was over, asking for more. "Be nice to Howard."

Obie finally let go of him and Tony stared at him in despair. He wasn't feeling well, not at all, and for a moment he thought Obie was cruel to leave him like this. He needed more. Then he pushed this ludicrous idea out of his head. Obie wasn't the one he needed, Steve was. Steve was the one he _wanted._

Maybe Steve still wanted him back...?

He looked at his phone, no sign from Steve obviously, and put it back in his pocket before walking out of the men's room. He noticed Obie had put the Do Not Enter - Cleaning In Process sign on the door and realized that being interrupted had been the last thing on his mind then. He pushed his hands down the pockets of his dress pants and tried not to limp as he set up to walk back to the table.

He needed a smoke but the possessive grip of Obie's hand he suddenly felt on the nape of his neck refrained the impulse. Tony felt numb at the touch. Numb and docile. At least he didn't have to worry much about limping. Obie led him back to his seat in a fatherly embrace, no-one noticed they were gone, everyone being properly drunk at this point. Tony had regrettably sobered up a little since he had thrown up. Obie still held him in place, hand on his knee, the warmth of him inflaming his body again, the leash short and tight. 

Tony wriggled on his seat. The ache in his ass was still blazing. He pretended it didn't exist, Tony was used to pain anyway. Dessert arrived soon and tasted like puke and dirty cock in his mouth. Tony ate it without conviction, laughed once or twice, flashed his cutest smile and dinner finally came to an end. 

It was only half past nine, his heart skipped a beat. Tony politely excused himself and put his jacket on. He straightened up, wavered a little with the pain, Obie didn't hold him back. He could finally get the fuck away and have his smoke.

Once outside Tony took a deep, refreshing breath. He almost smiled at the semblance of freedom he felt at this instant. He took a cigarette and the first puff went straight to his head, relaxing him a little. The excitement started fluttering in his chest again. It wasn't even ten p.m. Maybe he could still make it to Steve's party. The sudden sliver of hope rushed to his head and he left lightheaded for a moment. He fumbled with his phone. Should he text? Should he call first? Should he try to surprise him? It wasn't even that far. Maybe Happy could drop him there discreetly. 

But soon the reality caught up to him. Happy was gonna drive his dad home and he was a disgusting slut, full of Obie's cum. Was he really gonna meet Steve in this state and kiss him with that mouth? Did he have the time to get back home, have a thorough shower, and still make it to the party?

He stared powerlessly at his phone with his cigarette smoking in his hand. Helpless, lost and miserable again.

The good thing was that he didn't need to make a choice anymore because someone else did it for him. He saw a black limo—not his dad's—pull up in front of him and stared at it blankly. The door opened on its own and the man gave him a gentle look, smirking a little. "Get in."

Tony didn't move at first, wondering if he actually had a choice or not. Not that it mattered much, at this point. He internally laughed, mirthless. Steve had no use for a scum-sucking loser like him anyway.

He took a last drag of his cigarette and climbed in. The door closed and he leant his head against it, not looking at his companion. "Are you gonna take me home?" He asked dully.

Obie snorted. "Tony..." He whispered condescendingly, "my boy," and took Tony's hand in his. "You understand why I had to punish you, right?"

Tony nodded, gazing into space, avoiding the man's stare. The uneasiness he had felt all night long came back, settling in his heart, for good.

"I didn't hear you."

"Yes, sir." Tony snapped.

The man snorted again. "No need to be so formal, my boy. I've known you for a long time and I care about you a lot. You know that right?"

"Yes." He whispered, unconvinced.

"But I have to keep you in line." The man said in an ominous tone and then added. "To protect you." Tony nodded again. "Especially from yourself," Obie kept on. "I know you understand."

"I understand."

"We don't want you to make another stupid mistake. You remember what happened the last time you strayed, right?" 

"I remember." 

"You don't want that to happen again, don't you?"

Tony shivered at the threatening tone of the man. " I don't." He choked out, whisperingly. A painful memory of his first boyfriend flashed through his mind. Something twinged in his chest.

Obie came nearer and brushed his fingers along his jawline, making him shiver with mixed feelings. "I'm sorry I have been neglecting you lately. I'm gonna change that." 

Tony felt a cold shiver down his spine. He didn't know if Obie's words were a promise or a threat. He wanted to lean into the touch a bit more though.

"I know you're still shaken from earlier. Let me take care of you. Come here," he said hoarsely, reaching a gentle hand to Tony's shoulder to bring him closer. "I've got something for you."

Tony scooted closer to him and let the man curl his arm around him. Obie lifted his junk with a jerk of his hips and pulled out his cock while pushing Tony down slowly. Tony let him without protest, even though that wasn't exactly what he had envisioned when Obie had said he would take care of him. He had imagined something nicer perhaps. What a fool! Who would be nice to _him?_ He didn't deserve nice, so never mind, he would still take this. It would take his mind off things at least and it would feel good, maybe. Sucking Obie's cock, when he wasn't thinking about Steve, was comforting like coming back home. Well, when Tony said 'like coming back home' he really meant it as a general reference, not that coming back to _his_ home had ever been comforting.

"I haven't cleaned it up so you can taste yourself." Obie said joyfully, obviously proud of himself. His cock was dirty indeed, smeared with—mostly—blood. So _that_ was the reason why Tony had miraculously self-lubricated, he _bled._ That explained why he still felt it burn like someone had kept punching him in his lower back and broken his tail and hip bones.

Tasting his own blood, and else, wasn't as disgusting as he would have thought at first, and still not the worst thing he had had in his mouth. Once he was used to the smell, Tony wrapped his lips around the head and started licking it clean with unusual eagerness. Obie was extremely gentle this time, tangling his fingers in Tony's hair, caressing him, fondling his neck. His hold was still possessive but in a reassuring and protective way. He complimented him, a lot, until Tony started to moan softly around him, mind finally blank. He kept it slow and unnerving and was soon rewarded with the groans of pleasure of the man he was satisfying. Tony wanted to be good. He needed to be good, at least to someone. So when he felt something warm and liquid springing into his throat and heard Obie mumble lewdly: "Yeah... Come on, boy. Swallow it." while he pressed his head down on his cock, he did.

He choked a little at first, because he wasn't expecting it, especially since Obie hadn't come yet, but then he caught up with it and swallowed obediently, without leaving a drop of it. Obie's hand was caressing his hair kindly. "Yeah, baby." He husked out while brushing gentle fingers behind his ear. "Keep swallowing. Swallow it all." The act was so humiliating and so intimate at the same time, he let out a moan while doing it and realized he was rock hard. But when he was done, he hated himself a little bit for it. Not that it was the first time he was doing it. Neither with Obie, nor with other men. It had never been as gentle however, and Tony felt a little unsettled. He wondered if that also was one of Obie's twisted ways to subdue and control him. If it was then, it worked, because Tony almost whined with the lack of warmth in his mouth when it was over and sucked in a shuddering breath as he swallowed the last drop. Obie rewarded him with a spurt of warm cum on his lips as he jerked himself off. Tony licked it off and hated himself again, disgusted with himself. Now that Obie was satisfied he felt the distance between them grow. 

He wiped his face off with the back of his sleeve and huddled against the door, feeling uncomfortable. He started breathing heavily again, his heart was pounding hard in his chest. He felt nauseous. Obie combed his fingers in his hair again, sliding them along the longest strands. His hand gently cupped his cheek and his thumb brushed over his jawline. "You're such a sweet boy, Tony. You were so good to me."

Tony sucked in a plaintive shuddering breath as he felt a pang in his chest. 

"Are you gonna take me home, now?" He asked pleadingly, on the verge of crying, although he was dried up of all his tears. All he wanted now was for Obie to fuck him again, but gently this time, and in a bed. Just like they used to when Tony was younger, when Tony thought Obie was making love to him and that he would always be there for him, to protect him. He wanted to be cuddle in those big arms again. He wanted Obie's warmth to help him ease the angst churning his stomach, to soothe the excruciating agony in his chest. He wanted to forget... About everything. Forget about Obie's twisted games. Forget about his dad. Forget about Steve...

Obie smiled. "You know I can't do that. I have a family. My wife is waiting for me. You understand, right?"

Tony swallowed the lump in his throat and ignored his trembling hands. "I understand." He finally croaked out, the words scorching him as he uttered them. The rejection hurt, even though Tony loathed that man with all his soul. That is, if he had any...

"Here, drink this." Obie held him a full glass of pure whisky. "It will help take the taste away." 

Tony gulped it down in one go. It took the bad taste away, indeed. At least the physically present one that lingered on his tongue. Not the other one that kept bothering him at the back of his throat. The liquid burnt his throat and made his head spin a little. Obie was bad news. Tony really shouldn't drink that much alcohol, especially pure, especially after all he had drunk at dinner, especially not in his state. He didn't care one bit though, neither did Obie. 

The car pulled over. He took his pack of cigarette out of his pocket and picked one. He tapped it on the pack while waiting for his cue. Certainly that was where Obie was dropping him off, throwing him away like trash. 

"You shouldn't smoke." Obie said, mildly concerned. "It's bad image for the company. Or if you really have to, then smoke cigars."

Tony turned to him and glared. Was that an order?

"Here. Have some. Much more efficient. Much more discreet." Tony looked down at Obie's hand. He was handing him a little silver platter with four lines of coke. "You're old enough now," he said with a sly smile.

Tony bent over and sniffed one. He felt his pupils flare open and his heartbeat accelerate. He knew he would soon feel euphoric and waited for it eagerly. 

"Now get the fuck out of my car." Obie said curtly, an amused glint in his eyes. "You're still young! Party! Fuck! Have fun!" He almost commanded. "But remember this, Tony boy, always." Tony opened the door while pretending not to listen. Obie wasn't fooled though. When he was out, he glared at him. "You're _mine."_ Obie said while his grin spread evilly on his face. "Never forget it," he added. "You'll always be mine."

Tony didn't answer and stepped away, staring resignedly from afar. Message received. Loud and clear. The man had the reins of Tony's life and everything Tony got was because he let him. Now he was letting the leash loose but just enough to keep Tony in line. Tony could fuck whoever he wanted sure, as long as his ass remained Obie's only, but dating... dating he couldn't.

Unless, maybe, if she was a suitable woman to marry...

He thought of his dad for a second. Would Howard be happy if he was? What would say if he knew what his good friend Obadiah had been doing to his only son for all those years? Maybe he already knew... Maybe he just didn't care, as long as it never got out.

Tony glanced at their surroundings. He was in front of a gay club. Obie was really pushing the joke far, but fine. Whatever. He threw his papers into the car and only kept his cash and nameless credit cards, and of course, his phone. He slammed the door close and stared blandly at the car driving off.

He did wonder what was so detestable about him that even someone like Obie wouldn't want him and ignored his stomach churning and the bile coming up in his throat.

He stared at his phone and thought of Steve. He felt numb. Steve hadn't tried to call or to text him, unsurprisingly. He hadn't either... what for? He looked at the time and fancied joining him for a second or two. Even if the party might have already ended, maybe he could still meet him at home. And then he remembered what Obie had said and he remembered what he had done with him, and then he remembered Steve's biting words... He remembered Steve's jealousy and Steve's dishonesty and his own disappointment.

Steve had already given up on him, had maybe even broken up with him. If he hadn't yet, it was just a matter of time before he would. Who would ever want trash like him for a boyfriend? Not even Obie does. Tony might as well give up on the idea altogether. Tony wouldn't dare show up at Steve's door after what he had done anyway. He was nowhere near wasted enough for that. Obie wanted him to have fun? Sure, he'd have fun. Tony was all for fun. Fuck his legacy! Fuck his destiny! Tony was gonna trash himself to death and fuck everyone who would like him enough to be willing to. Well, when he said like _him,_ he really meant like _his body._ The rest he didn't have.

Tony finally felt the effects of cocain. He felt euphoric. That was gonna be a night to remember. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the second part... You might wanna read chapter 23 again, in case things are confusing.
> 
> I'm really sorry about that but it seems my writing abilities are really too limited to grasp the depth and the entirety of Tony's agony. In other words, it may appear bland and boring and repetitive. Sorry about that... You'll get a rough idea, at least.
> 
> Thank you for reading and indulging me! ;-)

Tony knew exactly what he was gonna do, he had a plan. But first, he needed to get wasted.

He needed something better than coke, that lasted longer. He was thinking GHB or crystal meth, best when you were planning to indulge in sex, especially the kind of sex Tony wanted to indulge in right now. Tony hoped it would hurt. He hoped he would feel it for days afterwards, maybe that the sex would _last_ for days so he could just forget, too many thoughts of Steve still bugging him at the back of his mind. He just wanted to chill and numb his brain. That pervading uneasiness needed to go away.

He would take what he would find anyway. He had a load of cash, a nice history with sordid, he should be able to find what he needed quite easily.

He ditched the jacket, a bit too obvious. He wasn't cold anyway, already tipsy and high on coke. Summer nights were warm, he should be fine. Getting in was easy, despite looking already smashed, cash helped. He made a beeline for the bar and ordered two drinks straight away. The waitress was sexy, a little brunette with tattoos on her face. She looked nasty and glared at him with contempt when he flirted, maybe she was a dyke. The possibility highly turned him on and he fondled the idea a little. A crazy night of sex with her in a shaggy motel room, or in her apartment, really sounded like a nice prospect but she was busy and not particularly responsive—not exactly surprising since Tony had been gross and a tad insensitive—and Tony had no time to waste. He took his drinks and gulped down the first one in one go. Then he clutched the second one in his hands and disappeared through the crowd in his quest for tripping rapture.

By the time his second drink was finished, he had found what he needed, took two right away and was finally ready to get down to it. The high was great, his mind was finally numb and his body was burning so he headed for the backrooms, hoping he would find pleasure on his way there. He was well into it now, already staggering. A good sign. He could start implementing his plan of action. Tony was thinking nineteen, at least. Nineteen was a nice number to start with. A prime number. Also the age he was when he first met Steve. Well, on second thought, he should be more ambitious. Twenty-three was a very nice number too. Also a prime one.

Tony would swallow the cum of twenty-three men before he left this place. That was a good, relatively feasible objective, he thought.

Everything was blurry but he knew what to look for. He didn't need the whole picture, just to focus on the relevant details. His hand skimmed over the warm half-naked bodies. He made sure to make eye contact every time. No need for words, he was confident his smile would convey his purpose perfectly.

It worked, indeed. Tony was no rookie, he knew what he was doing, been doing this for as long as he was old enough for the bouncer not to look twice at him when he showed his fake ID.

On his first stop to the men's room, after Tony had washed his shaky hands—drugs did that to him sometimes—while avoiding his sickening reflection in the stained mirrors, he felt a strong-willed hand shoving him against the wall.

The brutal shove made his dick tingle. He gasped and stared lewdly at the owner of that hand. Tony's vision was too hazy for him to discern his face but the eyes were wanton, that was enough. The man studied him for a short moment, Tony made sure his own face said yes, he didn't have it in him to speak. He hoped the guy wouldn't mind. Apparently he didn't. With a manly grip on the back of Tony's head, the man shoved his tongue in his mouth and pressed his body against him. Tony melted into the kiss at first, caught off guard. His breath was hot and smelt like booze, it was heady. Then the man's hand slipped down his stomach and into his pants, grabbing his dick and started kissing his neck with too much tenderness. His hold on Tony's nape was gentle. Shit. The guy was too nice, Tony needed to change that. He let the guy play with his half-hard cock for a while before pushing him away. He didn't want to be kissed anyway.

He dropped on his knees before the guy tried to bring him somewhere more private. Tony wouldn't want to deprive others from the opportunity to join in. After all, he had a goal to achieve. The man was surprised at first but when Tony started fumbling with his fly, he let him do it while letting out an indecent groan. His cock was average and didn't smell half-bad. Perfect for a first. Tony had never really been picky about what went into his mouth anyway, especially in the state he was in right now.

The man slipped his fingers into Tony's hair in an attempt to be nice again and complimented him too much so he really needed to quicker the pace and make him come fast.

The nice thing about doing it in the men's room was that it wasn't its primary purpose, which meant some of the guys here actually came to pee. Tony enjoyed that a lot. There were a lot of curious, some envious, looks. He hoped those would be a bit more forward though. Tony definitely could take two cocks in his mouth, probably three. 

Number one finally came onto his tongue. The guy brushed his hand down his cheek and looked at him with a disappointed look when Tony pushed him away. He wasn't gonna get all cuddly with Tony, was he? _Ew..._ Besides, he had noticed two other men leering, leaning against the opposite wall and pawing their crotch. He didn't do much of an effort to make them act on it. Soon, he had two cocks in his mouth and really started to feel it. The drugs was perfectly effective at this point and he was fully hard, moaning eagerly every time one of them attempted to be a little rougher, like he should. He was finally free from unwanted disturbing thoughts.

A small crowd started to gather. A few took their dicks out to jerk themselves off. A bit more of courage would do them good though, Tony still had a free hand. Some of them took their phones out which made Tony shiver with lust, taking a perverse pleasure in imagining his dad seeing the video. He wasn't worried. If it ever got out he was pretty sure it would be dealt with even before it reached the media. Obie kept a thorough eye on it, undoubtedly, otherwise it would have already happened, and he had JARVIS on the watch too, just in case. If it really got out then, well... he certainly wouldn't be the one to be ashamed. Fuck! He was still thinking too much. Those guys were too hesitant. He needed more. He needed to be roughed up, to be face-fucked, to be slapped and spat on. He was almost sure he could actually come from that, with the right guy.

Tony didn't come. They were too nice probably, not zealous enough, too drunk maybe. His little escapade to the men's room was fairly disappointing in the end. Although he did have the opportunity to taste the flavor of six different men's cum. The thought didn't rejoice him though, quite the contrary in fact. He felt an unsettling uneasiness growing inside. He wanted to throw up. The taste in his mouth was foul. He needed another drink.

Tony didn't make it to the backrooms in the end, instead he headed for the bar. He was in a weird mood tonight. Maybe he was aiming too high? It was already past ten thirty, he hadn't achieved a third of his goal and he was already tired. What was wrong with him? He wasn't even hard. He should be after what he had taken. Should he try to find some viagra? 

He ordered his drink and struggled to stutter what he wanted with his gruff broken voice. His eyes were probably slightly unfocused because when he handed his cash, his hand was about two feet away from the waitress. The nasty brunette took his tip with a hateful glare. Tony might have been a little insistent, also he might have insulted her. He couldn't help it, she turned him on. Whenever she looked at him with that much hatred and despise, he felt the urge to push her down on her counter and fuck the shit out of her. On the upside, he was glad his dick was finally back to life. He glanced on the side, his gaze met with those of the brunette's coworker. His face looked vaguely familiar. Had they had sex already? Tony would be surprised if he remembered, he didn't think he remembered half of the people he had messed around with in his trashy life. It was fairly probable they happened though. The guy was hot with his slightly punk ways, even if his face was average. Besides, Tony liked blonds. He didn't dwell on it though, had much better things to do.

He didn't have the heart to go to the backrooms yet so he staggered to the dance floor. He wasn't walking straight, maybe he stumbled once or twice. It didn't matter, it was crowded enough that Tony wouldn't fall, only bump into warm, sweaty chests with heady smells. Tony could only see that as a positive thing and, on the plus side, a great opportunity for nice encounters.

The rest of it was kinda of blurry in Tony's head. He had absences and struggled to remember. Nothing he wasn't used to. Not remembering generally meant great things happened. He did know he had been dancing. He knew that a bunch of guys had touched him with grabby hands. He thought he did the same. He was pretty sure he made out with a cute guy, maybe two, that seemed to be more or less his age, rare enough to be mentioned. He thought he jerked one of them off on the dance floor and was fairly confident the other returned the favor, only because he had come in his pants and hoped someone had helped. He could count it as one, couldn't he? Tony probably tasted him on his fingers afterwards anyway. Seven down, sixteen more.

He thought he came back for another round of drinks, he wasn't sure though. But he took another dose at some point. Maybe two. His head was spinning too much. He stared beatifically at the ceilings and let the lights blind him for a moment. His time perception was kind of crooked. He could barely notice his surroundings anymore. Hands were touching him. He felt great, lightheaded, in bliss. He thought he did anyway. Maybe he was smiling, he wasn't sure. He couldn't feel his face anymore. He was pretty messed up by now, plastered and completely high. He was finally ready to go to the backrooms. He needed to go, because he suddenly felt his skin prickle, like something creepy and unpleasant was crawling underneath his skin. It sounded like he was dangerously sliding down the path to bad-tripping and really needed to do something about it. He needed to fuck the awkward feeling out of his system.

He didn't know how he got there but he did. Now he was leaning against the wall, there was an old guy sucking him off. He couldn't see his face, wouldn't be able to even in plain sight, probably, but his hands seemed wrinkled. The guy insisted to lick Obie's cum out of his ass, Tony let him—even though he was still very sore. People were gross, not that he was judging... He did tell him about the blood though, out of concern. At least, he thought he mumbled something like that. He tended to do that now, because of Steve. The uneasiness made a sudden come back and he blacked out. When he was conscious again he was leaning, face up against the wall, and heard himself moan. It almost felt good. He wondered if he would ever be able to do that with Steve. Maybe Steve would like that, even though Tony wouldn't— _couldn't—_ let him fuck him. He thought he would like Steve to do that to him one day. He would like that very much.

That particular tongue stung however, the burn spread inside Tony. He'd rather fuck the guy's mouth again. He _did._ He fucked his throat, but wasn't able to come in the end. The guy did, though. Tony counted that as a victory. 

Eight down, fifteen left.

Tony absolutely needed to be on his knees now, he would never be able to fulfill his objectives otherwise. He couldn't find anyone though. The few guys who were there wanted to either fuck him or be fucked and Tony had trouble getting a hard-on. He had to punch one of them in the face for being too insistent and trying to push him down and shove his dick in, and he almost got escorted out, couldn't walk properly and fell on his ass, was left there, in a high trip. He stared waveringly at his trembling fist and fondled the idea of licking the blood off of it, wondered if that was safe, decided he didn't care.

He didn't know what happened after that. Maybe Tony had been a little presumptuous with his goal. He had stopped counting, he just wanted to throw up again.

Apparently some other guy was sucking him off now, trying to get him hard. His back was sliding sideways on the wall. He pressed on the guy's head to hold himself up, earned a strangled moan and a gasp. He opened his eyes and looked straight in front of him, tried to anyway. He was met with the perverted shine in the eyes of one of the guys who was leering at them. Tony knew instantly what the guy wanted, maybe he stared back a little too insistently. Finally, someone who would take care of him the way Tony needed. He hoped it would hurt.

The guy strode toward them keeping eye contact with Tony. Tony's eyes were too unfocused to do the same however. He closed them at some point and opened them wide when he felt the guy's hand clutch his neck and press his head against the wall. He gasped and his dick twitched, making the guy who was sucking him off moan. The guy chuckled, face very close to Tony's. He was dark-haired, in his late thirties probably. His smile was a little too dangerous. 

"What's your name, kid?" He slurred in his ear while his hand pressed harder, sending spikes of electricity down his spine. He pressed until Tony's eyesight became blurred and dotted. Tony gasped again and parted his lips. He almost moaned with the sudden rush of adrenaline and dopamine to his head. As powerful as a high.

"Greg." He whispered while biting on his lips lewdly and he thrust his own cock deeper in the mouth of the guy at his feet, pushing on his head a little. The guy choked but didn't complain.

The dark-haired guy chuckled again and released his neck to brush his cheek with the tip of his knuckles. He buried his head into Tony's neck and kissed him softly, earning a gasp from him, before biting his skin. Tony gasped and cringed. His eyes flared open with the sharp pain. Another rush. Another jolt of electricity. He jerked his hips forward, deeper into the other man's mouth again. He was fully hard now. The man at his feet seemed eager and licked his shaft with more enthusiasm. Tony wondered for a split-second what that guy's face looked like. If he was young or old. If he had a boyfriend. If he was doing this often or if it was a first. If he was gonna go home satisfied tonight and then start a normal day at work tomorrow as if he hadn't had Tony's cock in his mouth while Tony was busy with someone else. Then he wondered why this guy was down there, sucking his cock. When had that happened?

Dark-haired guy interrupted his weird train of thoughts with a hand on his neck again. His thumb and middle finger pressed on the glands underneath his jaw. Hard. This time Tony whimpered and sucked in a painful strangled wheeze. His head span with the lack of air and his hands let go of the other guy's head to grab dark-haired guy's forearm instinctively. Tony didn't push him away however, he opened his eyes and stared bewilderedly at the guy's face, lips parted, and melted into the strong grip which was dangling him against the wall like a puppet.

"Like being roughed up, Greg?" Dark-haired guy said, smiling dangerously. The glint in his eyes was depraved.

Tony had no answer to that question. He just thought that the deviant glow in that guy's eyes reminded him of Obie, that this man's dangerous wickedness was both entrancing and terrifying. He wondered why he was always attracted to the same kind of guy. Or was it the other way around? He also knew that he was probably gonna do everything that guy wanted him to do either way. Tony was fucked up like that. His breathing accelerated.

He wasn't sure if it was dark-haired guy who had made him leave or if he had gotten bored with Tony's lack of interest but he no longer had a mouth on his cock and felt cold. Dark-haired guy slid his hand down his chest, pressing his knuckles into the hollows of his abs, and slipped his fingers into his pants, grabbing his dick in relief. He gave it a few strokes, reducing the distance between them. Tony closed his eyes and let the guy take control. He bit his bottom lips and hummed softly, relishing in the pleasure of it. He forgot everything else. That was the exact reason Tony was doing this, he thought, to forget. 

The man had his mouth on his neck, alternatively biting him and licking the wounds he had made. Tony's mind drifted away. He wanted to be somewhere else.

He hummed and groaned softly, pinching his lips, eyes closed. The warm hand released his cock and wandered up his chest to land on his face, cupping his jaw and turning his face on the side. He could feel the guy's breath on his lips and opened his eyes. They were really close, he could breathe his breath.

"What do you say we take this party somewhere more private, Greg?" The man whispered huskily on his lips.

Tony didn't answer. He didn't have any answers. He just stared into the man's eyes for a moment. His vision was still blurry. Making decisions was hard right now. Was dark-haired guy expecting him to? He was way too wasted for that. He just needed to come and forget and come again, and be used and forget.

"I don't get fucked." Tony finally said.

The guy laughed. "Okay." He said with a tinge of tenderness in his voice. "There's plenty of ways to have fun without you getting fucked."

Tony's mind derailed for a split second. "I need a drink." He just said.

The lights were dim in the backrooms and his eyes unfocused. He could feel his body burn with arousal and couldn't walk straight. A hand held him up and led the way. Everything was blurry, distorted. He couldn't distinguish the things around him. He didn't know if they were things, or people. They were just indistinct moving shapes and shadows in the mist. It felt like walking down the devil's lair. It smelt like sweat and sex, it was heady and Tony felt himself drifting away again, as if he was no longer in his own body, lulled by the nebulous sounds of pleasure and pain.

He found himself in front of the bar again. There were three guys now. Also in their mid-late-thirties. Tony couldn't really distinguish their faces well. He stumbled and one of them caught him, he thought... Or maybe that was another patron, he wasn't sure. He was thirsty. 

"Wanna last drink before we go, kid?" Tony wasn't sure where the question came from. He nodded.

The nasty tattooed brunette was there, a glimpse of concern in her eyes and he hated her for that. She gave them drinks anyway. Tony wasn't sure who paid. He looked at her with regret. He should have been nicer to her. If he had maybe she wouldn't look at him the way she was looking at him right now. He should have really tried it on with her, be nice and honest, instead of going on the hunt for cocks. Maybe he could have spent the rest of the night with her. Maybe she would have been kind to him. Maybe he could have fucked her gently. Or maybe she really was a dyke but she would have taken him to his place anyway and they would have talked and cuddled. She would forgive him for calling her a dyke, would she?

The glass was suddenly cold in his hand so he snapped out of it. He drank a swig and felt the sweet fizzy liquid tingle his throat. "What is this?" He asked while looking at his glass funny.

"Redbull and ice." Dark-haired guy answered. At least he thought it was him, he recognized his voice. Tony glared at him. "You seem to be a little out of it, kid." The guy explained. "We don't want you to throw up, do we?"

Tony looked at him confusedly. "I've already thrown up today." He mumbled, or rather stuttered. He was almost sure of that, although he didn't remember when.

Dark-haired guy laughed. "Unless..." He started with a lewd smile and a perverted glint in his eyes. "That's something you're into?"

Tony shrugged.

"Come on, let's go to my place." The man said while wrapping a steadying arm around Tony to help him walk straight.

Once they were outside and the fresh air slapped Tony on the face, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, things seemed clearer suddenly.

"I don't go to other people's places." He said.

The guy startled. "Okay. Should we go to a hotel then?" That guy was really asking too many questions. Tony was too drunk to care. Faced with too much hesitancy from Tony, the guy asked another disconcerting question. "You still wanna do this, Greg?"

Tony stared at him confusedly. _Want_ was an interesting concept, he thought. He reflected upon the etymology of the word for a moment. The implications of the meaning wasn't something he really needed to get into right now. 

He looked around at the three men who stared at him bewilderedly, a tinge of amusement in their grin. Then he stared down at himself, his stained pants, his disheveled shirt. He had only come once today, he thought, and he wasn't really sure how it had happened but right now he wasn't hard anymore. He took a cigarette out and lit it, stared at the plastic bag in his hand and pondered taking another dose, to up the mood a little.

"Will those guys join?" He asked while glancing at the two men—that may or may not be dark-haired guy's buddies—dazedly.

"Would you like them to?" Dark-haired guy said, sounding excitedly interested. 

_Like_ was another interesting concept. One he was too wasted to study right now. People should really stop asking questions Tony didn't have the answers to. He just shrugged. The more the merrier, wasn't it? Tony hoped they would hurt him.

The guy brought a strong hand to the nape of his neck and pressed hard. The grip was a little possessive, like Obie's was and Tony shivered and melted into it. "So where do you wanna go then?" He asked while brushing his thumb on the skin of his neck. Tony startled.

A hotel sounded nice. But not for the kind of things they were planning to do to Tony, or the ones Tony was planning them to do to him. Besides, men tended to take liberties with Tony's body in hushed enclosed spaces. If he passed out, they would be more likely inclined to fuck his ass in the privacy of a room, whereas anal sex outside was a little tricky as a general rule. Tony wasn't particularly attracted to the idea of being trapped in a sordid motel room with three men that were obviously bad news anyway...

"Getting your kick out of being seen, huh? Sure, as you like." 

Tony looked at the man and wondered if he had blabbered despite himself.

"I know where we should go." One of the two other guys said. "It's barely a ten minute walk from here."

They all walked to a construction work area in the neighborhood. Tony stared up at the empty summer night sky. He thought of Steve and smiled. And then he meekly let the three men walk him wherever they wanted him to go, a little unconcerned. They climbed into the building site and found somewhere discreet.

In a flash of lucidity, Tony wondered what he was doing here, with those guys, in this sordid place, but the feeling didn't last long enough. He was too fucking tired to dwell on it and the perverted glint in their eyes reminded him well why he was here. He had waited all fucking night for it. Finally someone was going to treat him the way he deserved to be treated, like the trash, piss-drinking whore, depraved cum-dump pain slut that he was. Finally someone was gonna make him forget about the nauseous uneasiness and putrefying anguish that churned his stomach and made him want to crawl out of his own body to escape it. They were gonna fuck it out him. Tony couldn't wait for it. 

At some point he was mildly concerned with his own safety. That was probably another Steve thing, it wasn't something Tony was usually inclined to. He really needed to stop randomly thinking about him in that kind of situations. It was becoming unhealthy... He quickly scanned through the worst case scenarios, though. What was the worst thing that could happen to him, really? He could pass out... He probably would, not a big deal. They could beat him up... nothing that hadn't happened before, nothing he wasn't prepared for either, he would probably welcome it. And if it left him disabled well, perhaps he would get something out of it. They could steal from him... His credit cards and his phone had extra security systems, JARVIS was behind it, at best they would be able to rob him of a couple of grands. A trifle... They could get arrested for public indecency. Hum... His dad would go berserk, that would be fun and the rest was something he would gladly let Tomorrow Tony handle. What else? Right... they could also (intentionally or accidentally) kill him. But... well... would it really be problem, per se? And what if they abducted him and kept him as a (sex-)slave, wouldn't that be fun? Of course, they might also be deranged people who would enjoy torturing him and would cut off his body parts and rape what was left of him all day long. That would be a bummer but Tony finally decided that this was very unlikely and was willing to take the risk. After all, he might even end up enjoying it in the end.

He shared what was left in his small plastic bag with the three men, one of them had bought a bottle of vodka. They all drank from it. Dark-haired guy pushed Tony against the wall and poured some in Tony's mouth who opened his mouth with delectation, smile on his lips. The liquid trickled down his chin and dark-haired guy licked it off softly, making Tony shiver. His dick tingled awake. 

The world around him was spinning a little. He shivered, he didn't know if it was because of the fresh breeze on his wet, disheveled shirt or something else, and he looked down. Dark-haired guy grabbed his jaw to make him look up again and shoved his tongue into his mouth, brutally pushing him against the wall. They shared a hot and filthy kiss that tasted like pure vodka. Tony melted into it but it felt too nice.

"Don't wanna get kissed." He whispered with a hoarse voice.

Dark-haired guy startled and then chuckled. "Okay." Then he pressed him against the wall and tore off the rest of his shirt. His determined hands fumbled with his fly and unbuckled his belt. He pulled it off, for ulterior purposes surely, then he grabbed his neck and squeezed possessively. Tony gasped and his eyes whitened. He pushed Tony's head up against the wall and bit the skin of his neck. "Is there something else that's off the list, Greg?" Dark-guy asked in an unexpectedly gentle tone. "Before we really get down to it."

Tony thought about it. There was hardly anything he hadn't done before in the sex department, within the range of practices that didn't lead to permanent body damage. "My ass is off limit." He finally said.

"Sure. We agreed on that already. Anything else?"

Tony paused and added,"no excrement," just in case.

Dark-haired guy laughed in surprise. "All right." He squeezed on Tony's neck again. "Like pain?"

Tony stared into his eyes, hesitant. That was a question he had never asked himself actually, pain had always been part of his sex life. Except, maybe, with Steve? That was also a question he didn't want to think about now. Sex with those guys better hurt, because that was what Tony was here for. Get hurt. Get humiliated. Get what he deserved. Anything else made him feel extremely uncomfortable. 

His moment of confusion was interrupted by a soft slap on his face. Tony blinked and gasped in surprise. "Yeah, you do." The man husked out with a growing grin on his face. He slipped his hand down Tony's pants and grabbed his half-hard dick. Tony unconsciously leant into him and gasped again, eyes fluttering shut. The man gave his cock a brutal stroke and earned a strangled moan from him. "Do you like sucking cocks, Greg?" He whispered. 

Tony jerked his head up and stared into his eyes provocatively. He grinned. "Why don't you put me down on my knees and find out?" Something depraved flickered in the man's eyes and he smiled evilly. 

Tony earned another slap on the face for his impertinence and was hurriedly pushed down on his knees. Now they could really get down to business. The two other men joined quickly. Soon, Tony had one cock in his mouth and one in each hand.

As predicted, they were ruthless and uncaring, just what Tony needed... _He thought._

They kept fucking his face alternately, thrusting brutally and relentlessly into his throat, until the pain in his throat became a constant and increasing burn. They pulled his hair, hard, and each time they changed places, Tony was slapped and spat on until his head was spinning and his vision got blurry. As a principle, and because he had been well trained, he swallowed everything that came into his mouth eagerly. The slapping had started soft but the brutality of it escalated as the three men really got into it. Then the kicks started, on his thighs and then on his crotch. The sharp pain sudden and agonizing, followed by the adrenaline rush. It might have felt like pleasure for a second or two but everything got mixed up and confusing in Tony's head, right now. He was too fucked-up and wasted. He had given up control and let the men manhandle him without any resistance at all. He wasn't in any capacity to do anything else, nor did he want to. He wanted them to hit harder. He wanted them to punch his face until he passed out, until his nose broke. He wanted to bleed. He wanted them to kick him in the ribs until he couldn't breathe anymore. He wanted them to break his knees. He wanted to fall asleep and never wake up.

Tony's mind drifted away and he started flying, more and more out of it, just like when he was a kid. The pain too intense, the excitement too intense, the rage that each blow titillated wrenching. His throat was used like a Fleshlight and the burn spread down in his entire body. He didn't care much. He didn't pay attention to the insults either. Those guys were really into that apparently. Not that Tony had ever cared. He didn't care about anything. Nothing mattered anymore. At some point though, the whole thing stopped being fun. He thought. At some point Tony got bored, or realized he was, and wanted them to stop, let him die or let him go. 

The men exulted, encouraged by Tony's responsiveness—or lack of, he wasn't really sure, things were too foggy. They started to choke him. Tony's eyes flared open and he gasped and wheezed for air. The rush of adrenaline was blinding and deafening. His head was spinning and his consciousness ebbed slowly away, until everything went dark. Tony hoped he would not wake up. It was a really nice way to die, he thought. Die while being fucked. 

He woke up though, in an alternate universe, where time and space were different, where everything was moving and the ground was wavering and where he was flying. He laughed. 

"Liked that, kid?" He heard someone say, probably dark-haired guy, from the tone. Tony answered with a blissed and unfocused smile, unable to control himself. So they repeated it, either by choking him with a hand on his neck, or by shoving their dicks deep down his throat while blocking his airways. Tony passed out again. And again. At some point he threw up. Maybe once, maybe twice, he wasn't sure anymore. Things were blurry. They held his head when he did. And when he was done, exhausted and unable to move anymore, they leant him against the wall and opened his mouth. One last slap to startle him awake and one of them cleaned him with a golden shower. Tony opened wider, instinctively, and swallowed everything when the man shoved his cock into his mouth, didn't even need to be asked. It hardened and poked at the back of his throat. Tony's mind drifted away again. Far far away...

...

"Get off of him." 

That was the sharp tone of the voice that stirred him out of it and brought him back to reality. For a moment he thought he was dead and felt blessed. For a moment he thought he had always been wrong, that death wasn't just nothingness. He wondered what awful treatment awaited him now, if heaven really existed then, surely, hell would be the place he was going to.

But he slowly recovered his senses and apprehended his surroundings. He was still where he had been the last time he was conscious enough to remember.

He heard the voice again. "Get off of him or I call the police."

_Steve..._

_It sounded like Steve._

Tony turned his head on the side, eyes following the resolute voice. _He looked like Steve too..._ Steve with an iron stake, a tiny ball of rage with the will to wipe out the villains off the surface of the earth. Tony must be hallucinating. He felt like laughing out loud. He could barely move though. He leant against the wall, he thought he did anyway. He didn't really remember why he was here or how it had happened. A man grabbed him by the hair and turned his face to him, drawing a lewd whimper out of him. The gesture surprised him and he started to laugh cluelessly. 

Tony's guardian angel who unsettlingly looked like Steve was possibly arguing with three men now. They sounded angry. He was a little out of it. He got slapped again. And then he heard his name.

Steve with an iron stake called out to him.

That was maybe the moment Tony realized the man really _was_ Steve, standing in front of them in all his righteous glory, fighting for liberty. Shit, Tony could almost see the Star-spangled banner floating behind him. A surreal vision. He felt euphoric.

_Steve cared..._

He laughed again. "Captain America saved the day again." He heard himself say hoarsely. 

Some dark-haired guy grabbed his jaw and pushed his head violently against the wall. Tony huffed out and cringed in pain. "You know this guy?" The man asked, he looked really angry. Tony felt almost sorry for him.

"He's my boyfriend." Tony just said. 

Surely that was still the truth. Steve wouldn't be here otherwise, would he?

Dark-haired guy let out a startled, mirthless laugh and roughed him up again. "Tony? I thought your name was Greg... " He said while slapping him again and called him a liar. The man's angry gaze was entrancing, Tony was a little dazzled for a moment. For a moment he was tempted to swallow the dick presented to him and forget about everything else—Tony was conditioned to submit to assertive guys, sadly—but Steve's voice reasoned him. It pulled him out his intoxicated daze.

_"Get up, Tony!"_

There was nothing Tony wanted more than get up and hold Steve in his arms right now. The guy was a little insistent however, his touch repulsed him. "Fuck off, loser." He whispered. "Don't fucking touch me." 

The guy startled and stopped touching Tony. He looked hurt and disappointed. _Shit..._ Dark-haired guy looked like he really liked him, Tony thought. He felt sorry for him again. 

Unable to subdue Tony, the guy turned his rage toward Steve and things escalated. Tony panicked and felt like his heart was going to explode. He could hardly move or think straight at this point but if one of those guys tried to lay a finger on Steve, he would have to kill them. He quickly looked around to study his surroundings and find potential weapons. He spotted a few things that could do the trick—Tony knew one or two ways to kill someone barehanded anyway. He started to elaborate a strategy to get up and get to those weapons before one of them could reach Steve. Then, he prepared his plan of attack. Tony could probably take two down by surprise. The third one would be trickier, besides, trying to move a limb was kind of an ordeal at this precise moment, and he didn't feel like killing dark-haired guy yet, some misplaced affection surely...

Fuck, why did Steve have to come and rescue him again? Tony wasn't worth it. He should let him snuff it in a ditch. Now he had made everything worse. He was forcing Tony to make decisions and Tony wasn't in the right state to make decisions.

Steve managed to talk them out of it thankfully and Tony watched them leave with a surge of relief. What the fuck was he doing with them anyway? He had no rational answer to that question... He did regret, though, mildly, not taking the time to ask for dark-haired guy's number when they were gone. Just in case... But only for a second or two because Steve was there... And Steve was his life. The light in the darkness. His guardian angel.

His boyfriend's jaw was throbbing with rage and he stared at them with a hard and focused expression. The one that Tony absolutely loved on him. And then he turned to him and like a knight in shining armor, surrounded with a halo of divine light, Steve rushed to him, eyes filled with concern. 

_Shit!_

Tony's heart was pounding in his chest. So fucking hard. He felt something fluttering in his stomach and he gazed at his boyfriend beatifically and felt the corners of his mouth quirk up into a blissed smile, overwhelmed by a surge of love. MDMA did that sometimes... except he hadn't had any, he thought, was pretty sure even... What the fuck?

He tilted his head on the side. "My hero..." He whispered when Steve knelt down next to him. Oh how he wanted Steve's hands on him right now. He would gladly die for Steve to touch him.

Steve grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him gently. "Come on Tony, get up." His voice was so soft... "Let's go home." He looked sad. He sounded sad too... Tony wondered if that was his fault. He decided it was and hated himself.

Fuck, he was tired... He really wished he could comply but his body didn't seem to follow. He felt himself go but Steve's hands held him gently. The smell of piss made him sick, his stomach churned and he started retching. He threw up, barely anything solid, and the pain he felt as he did so seemed to say that it wasn't the first time he vomited tonight.

He wiped his mouth and tried to look at Steve. He wished he could speak but his throat hurt too much. Steve looked sad, and worried, and Tony hated that look on Steve.

"You stink, Tony." Steve blurted with a tinge of reproach, his characteristic frown darkening his face. Tony probably did. He wanted to laugh but he wasn't sure his face conveyed the feeling. His head was spinning. He stared at the night sky again, slumped all over the ground, limp in Steve's hands, and felt happy. Steve's hands were so warm. He hadn't realized how cold he had been until the warmth of Steve's hands brought back life into him. He hadn't realized how much he had wanted Steve's hands on him, how blissful it was... to have Steve's hands on him, finally.

Steve's voice was warm and gentle, just like his touch. "Let's get you home." He whispered while wiping his face off carefully. Surely he must have done something right in his life to have a boyfriend like this, he thought. He didn't deserve him. Steve should leave him here, to die. He was trash. But Steve didn't leave him here, he took off his hoodie to give it to Tony and wrapped him up inside, the smell of it so heady and amazing.

Tony managed to sit up somehow and threw his arms around Steve's neck, needing the contact at all cost. He buried his face into his neck, seeking the warmth and comfort of his boyfriend's smell. "Thank you..." He whispered, with what was left of his voice "You're my hero..."

Steve looked pained but he helped him up on his feet without another word and Tony unexpectedly managed to stand up and walk, although his entire body hurt so much he felt numb. 

He followed his boyfriend like a puppy. Tony was convinced he was born for this exact purpose anyway, following Steve like a puppy. He would follow him to the end of the world, if needed to. He would cut off his own dick if Steve wanted him to. He would slit his own throat if Steve asked him to. 

Steve was walking too far away from him. Tony started to feel anxious and panicky, like he would never be able to catch up to him. He accelerated and wrapped his arms around him, to never let him go. He buried his head in the crook of his neck and relaxed at the contact.

Except Steve was mad. Furious and exasperated.

"I'm not your fucking hero, Tony... I'm fucking no-one. And I'm fucking _pissed._ Get the fuck off me, you reek!"

Steve might have a point after all... Tony's head was spinning again. He felt nauseous. His throat hurt. He slowed down his pace not to bother him but his heart was racing, his anxiety was creeping up his chest until it all became overwhelming. He felt like crying and really wished he could. Crying would be so relieving. His entire body felt wrong. He needed to get out of it. He needed _something_ to get out.

His boyfriend turned around and looked at him worriedly. Tony raised sheepish eyes to him, afraid to be rebuked again.

"You're bleeding." Steve remarked, a little panicky.

Tony startled. Was he? He just shrugged. It wouldn't be the first time.

Steve rushed to him and grabbed his chin, pulling it down a little. "You're _bleeding,_ Tony." He repeated, sounding distraught. He looked up at him with eyes filled with worry and anger. Tony wondered what he had done wrong this time.

"Change of plan." Steve said and grabbed him by the hand before pulling him towards his bike in a quicker pace.

"Where are you taking me?" Tony asked, a little puzzled by Steve's sudden determination.

"To the hospital."

His heartbeat suddenly accelerated. He didn't want to go to the hospital. He couldn't go to the hospital. What would they do to him there? "I'm fine." He protested. Because he was, relatively. His body was, at least. He was still alive he meant, and walking, barely.

"You're not fucking fine, Tony. You were _raped."_

 _Raped._

The word felt like a dagger through his heart for a split second. It cut his breathing short.

 _Raped._

What a ludicrous idea! _Rape_ was such a strong word that Tony was pretty sure he knew the definition of. Rape meant being forced to have sex. Rape meant someone had used violence or threats to coerce you into having sex with them. Rape meant you were unwilling. Nothing of the sort had ever happened to Tony. 

Tony could not possibly be raped. He was _always_ willing. As a principle. He was built that way. He thought he chuckled, at the incongruity of the situation. He couldn't help himself.

Steve was mad though, _again._ "You got fucking raped and you're bleeding!" He yelled, looking shaken.

Steve didn't understand. Just because they roughed him up a little... That didn't mean he was unwilling. Tony had agreed to everything, surely he had, one way or another. He denied it firmly. He thought he did anyway and then he added, "You know I can't go to the hospital." Because a hospital was the last place he wanted to be in right now. He just wanted to go home, have a shower and cuddle with Steve. That was all he wanted. Steve would help soothe his growing anxiety.

"They came and they _pissed_ in your mouth." Steve yelled, voice pervaded with rage and fear. "They wrecked your throat and now you're bleeding. Do you want to catch AIDS?"

Now, that sounded a little overdramatic, didn't it?

Wasn't such a big deal... was it? Nothing that hadn't happened to Tony plenty of times before. He didn't need that much concern and fussing over but Steve didn't seem to be willing to let go. "I'm taking you to the hospital. End of." He insisted, assertive and unyielding, and Tony knew better that try to change his stubborn mind, especially now. When Steve had decided something, there was little he could do to prevent it, so he complied docilely. He was in no condition to fight his boyfriend once again anyway. Tony would rather be waiting for hours in a hospital with Steve than be anywhere else without him.

The ride to the hospital wasn't long but something uncomfortable roiled in his stomach. That same uneasiness he had more or less felt all day long. Tony wanted to cry and he didn't know why, he just felt miserable. He pressed himself against Steve, hoping the feeling would go away but it didn't. 

In the Emergency Room, Tony let Steve handle things for him. He was absolutely incapable to formulate anything himself anyway. He still couldn't see straight, his head was spinning, could barely stand straight. He was completely out of it. Usually getting high was much more fun than that... Usually he didn't think that much. Now he'd rather sleep it off. It was such a relief when Steve came back to wait with him. He buried his head into his neck and snuggled against him, trying to forget the pain in his throat. He let the warmth of him wrap him in a protective embrace and was soon lulled into sleep, finally relaxing in Steve's presence, basking in the heady smell of him.

When he woke up, slowly emerging from what felt like a comatose sleep, he had a raging headache. He took his surroundings in and was perplexed for a moment. He was leaning against Steve, in what looked like the emergency room of a hospital, and wondered for quite a while what the fuck he was doing here. He could hear the muffled sound of Steve's worried voice explaining things to a nice-looking nurse and felt like they were talking about him as if he wasn't in the room. It felt weird, like Tony was no longer in his own body, like he had died of some sort. He was soon reminded of the sad truth of his existence by the pain he felt all over his body, however, especially the burning ache in his throat. 

Slowly, but surely, things came back to him. A little. _Right..._ _Possibly mind-blowing chemsex._ _Being rescued._ _Blood in his mouth._ He could still taste it, incidentally. _Steve insisting to see a doctor. Allegedly raped._ Remembering the word made him shiver. _STD scare..._ He absolutely needed to clear out this misunderstanding quickly and get the fuck out of here asap.

The nurse looked at them funny, Steve squeezed his hand appeasingly. Tony's heart was racing. 

"Please follow me." The nice-looking nurse said to him kindly. "Don't worry, we'll check you out. We're gonna have to ask you a few questions. Are you going to be okay?"

Tony nodded and shrugged, his usual response when he didn't know what to say. Steve stood up as well, overly protective, and followed them. Tony's heart was pounding. What was he gonna say now? He had but a really vague and distorted memory of what had happened to him from the moment he left Obie's car. 

He was lost in his thoughts when Steve argued with the nurse. He heard the words "strictly confidential" and "need my support" and then she addressed him directly. "Do you want your friend to be here while we examine you?" She asked very nicely.

Tony rushed to answer 'no' with a shake of his head. Steve would only be a nuisance, getting worried and over-protective. It was bad enough that Tony was gonna get checked up, it would only make things worse. His boyfriend looked angry and hurt and Tony's heart clenched when he saw the confusion in his eyes but he would deal with it later. He couldn't have Steve there with him. 

The nice nurse sat him on a hospital bed and bombarded him with questions.

"All right Gregory," She started with a soft understanding voice. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Tony shrugged. He wasn't sure exactly what she wanted him to say. 

"Your friend told us you were raped." She insisted, maybe out of concern. "Do you think you could tell us more about the circumstances?"

"I wasn't raped." Tony snapped.

The nurse startled and pouted a little before forcing a professional understanding expression back on her face. "Okay." She said and noted something on her form. 

"Were you perhaps coerced in some ways into performing sexual acts you didn't explicitly consent to?"

Tony stared at her, he had no answer to that but shook his head anyway.

"Okay." She noted something else on her medical form.

"Your friend reported bleeding. Can you tell us how that happened?"

"I wasn't raped." Tony repeated, annoyedly. "My boyfriend is just jealous. He'd rather have me raped than accept that I had fun without him. He can't stand that I like it rough." He said curtly. "He doesn't understand."

"All right." She said mildly convinced by Tony's explanation. "So everything that happened to you tonight happened with your full consent?"

"Yes."

"Did you have oral sex?"

"Yes."

"Were you on the receiving or the giving end?" 

"Both."

"Did you have anal sex?"

Tony hesitated. He suddenly felt the pain throbbing in his ass and shivered. He couldn't look the nurse in the eyes. For one second he was tempted to say yes but refrained. "No."

"How many partners did you have?"

"I don't remember."

"More than one?"

"Yes."

"More than five?"

Was the number really relevant at this point? Apparently... Tony wondered if they were making statistics. How many guys did the average gay slut suck off on a Friday night...? Thursday night? Well... He internally laughed. "Yes." Tony wasn't sure though, but that was highly probable. 

"Were you or your partners wearing any protection?"

"I don't think so."

"Did you swallow?" 

"Yes." 

"How many times?" 

"I don't remember..."

"Have you ever been tested for any STDs?"

"Yes."

"When was you last HIV test?"

"Two months ago, I think." Tony wasn't new to this. He had already been tested positive for a bunch of STDs in his short life. He even got syphilis once. A bummer. Tony felt obliged to give her the list of what he remembered. He told her about being on PrEP too. Might be useful.

"Have you been taking any drugs?"

"Yes."

"What drugs?" 

"Coke, crystal meth, alcohol." He answered blandly. "I think."

"Can you tell me how much, roughly?"

"I don't remember."

"Okay." She said with a non-judgmental tone and noted everything Tony said down and then she kept asking him questions that Tony answered mechanically but didn't make any comments, Tony didn't either. That was relieving at least. Then she asked, "can you give me your arm? I'm gonna take a few samples of your blood for the tests. You'll have the results in a few days." He rolled up the sleeve of Steve's too small hoodie and showed her the inside of his right elbow without a word. Then, after explicitly asking for his consent, she took samples of the inside of his mouth, from his skin and from his hair—everywhere where there might still be traces from his partners, Tony supposed—and put them in tubes conscientiously. She was very gentle and nice and when she was done she patted him and smiled. "All done," she said. "The doctor will see you in a minute, to examine you. Are you gonna be alright, Gregory?"

Tony nodded.

There was something sad that flashed through her eyes, long enough for Tony to feel bad about it. He hated that. He hated that look in other people's eyes. The one that seem to imply he was some sort of victim. This was why he hated hospitals. He didn't need that kind of sympathy, even less that kind of concern. Tony was no victim. He was a slut, he was trash, he was a cum dump, a piss whore, a human toilet, a filthy cunt, a deviant perv, an asshole, a liar, a cheat, everything you wanted... but he was _no—fucking—victim._

She pressed his arm gently. "Okay." She said softly. "I have to go. Press this button to call if you need anything." She started walking away from him but turned to him and spoke one last time. "You can change your mind about this, Gregory. About what you said. Any time. We'll be there for you, whatever you need. You can get help, you know. You're not on your own."

Tony wished she stopped saying things that made him want to slit his own throat. He didn't need any help, he just needed to get out of here.

He wasn't left on his own for long. The doctor entered the room quickly. She was blond, in her fifties, glasses perched on the tip of her nose, a stern, focused, scrutinizing look. She looked at him dubiously and seemed to be able see through him instantly. It made him a little uncomfortable. He wriggled on the hospital bed, even though it wasn't the first time he faced disapproving judgement for his promiscuous sexual behavior. As said before, Tony wasn't a rookie. He had been in the game for a while.

She stared at him for a short moment, pouting a little, and read through the medical form filled in by the nurse. "So your boyfriend barged in here in panic, claiming you were raped but according to this, you were only involved in consensual sexual activities with multiple partners, without protection and under the influence of drugs." Tony startled at the slightly cynical tone of her voice. "Where does it hurt?" Tony startled again, at her blunt indifference. He parted his lips and pointed at his throat, lost for words. That was exactly what he needed. Someone who didn't pretend to care.

"Open your mouth, please," she said concentratedly, already preparing her torture tools. Tony complied, despite wanting to laugh at the irony of hearing this sentence again in that particular context. He felt at ease with her assertive strictness. "Hum... " She let out as she examined the inside of his mouth. "They didn't go easy on you, dear, did they? Your throat is a mess, boy, you'll have to slow down a little if you don't want to suffer irreversible damages. Soup and yogurt for you, for a week at least." She finally said while pushing softly his chin right and left with a firm thumb. "Nothing that needs immediate surgery though. You'll be fine, don't worry. It will heal itself, in time, but you should definitely take better care of yourself." Tony decided he liked her. He liked that she wasn't pampering him. "The good thing is," she added emotionlessly, "since urine is sterile, it helped cleaning the wound, granted none of your partners was carrying germs, indeed."

Tony felt a shiver of shame flush through his body at the reminder but only nodded, hoping this was gonna end soon. He wiggled uncomfortably on his ass.

"Did you have anal sex, boy?" She asked again, with a scrutinizing stare. 

Tony felt the bile coming up his throat at the reminder. He saw himself on that toilet bowl again, head in pushed down into it and Obie tearing his ass apart. He was strangely detached, as if he had been out of his own body then. The pain was real though, excruciating. It made him want to throw up, to scratch his skin off, to hurt his arms.

He fondled the idea of showing her his bleeding anus for a short while. A few seconds only, it wasn't the first time Obie, or his friends, were rough with him. He had bled before and he knew how to care for a bleeding asshole. He shook his head into a no. He didn't even know if Obie had been the only one tonight. He probably was, but that wouldn't be the first time something like this happened to him if Obie wasn't.

"Are you sure you don't want me to check it out?"

He shook his head again, looking down in shame.

"Have you been hurt anywhere else?" 

Tony's entire body hurt. He probably had bruises everywhere, maybe even a broken rib, or two. Zipping down his hoodie and taking it off was the last thing he wanted to do now, however. One because it was Steve's and two because he really didn't want her to see. If she saw she might want to keep him here.

"No." He said while emphasizing his answer with a large shake of his head. 

"Alright, I can't force you." She said with a incredulous face.

She gave him ointments and meds and looked with a focused, medically concerned stare at the bruises on his neck. "Did you get choked?"

Tony almost swallowed his water down the wrong way. He spilt some of it in his panicked gesture and answered with a wrecked hoarse voice. "Yes."

She raised a slightly desperate eyebrow at him. _Shit..._ "Did you pass out?" She asked in the same professional, disinterested tone. He should have kept his mouth shut. He didn't even remember. He thought he did, maybe more than once, but he didn't think it was wise to say it. He nodded anyway, feeling the scrutinizing stare pressing him for answers. She had a mean way to push him into a corner, Tony felt he had to.

"As your medical doctor, I shall really advise you against that kind of practices, especially when under the influence of drugs." She said while she looked into his eyes and ears, listened to his heart and kept asking questions about the potential symptoms he had had. "There is no safe way to do it, even with experienced partners. It might affect your lungs, your heart, your brain, you whole body... in a permanent way." Tony felt his heart heave at the word _brain._ If dying wasn't scaring him much, losing his brain abilities, on the other hand... It was everything Tony cherished about himself. He shivered at thought. "You might not care about losing your own life," the doctor said bluntly, "but if you do it that way, someone's gonna have to pay for it. I hope you realize that, Gregory."

Tony jerked his head up and stared into her eyes, they were gentle and concerned. He felt a tremor in his jaw. "My name's not Gregory." He croaked out and immediately regretted it. Why would he say something like this?

The doctor raised another unconcerned eyebrow. "Sure, do you have a name I should address you with?" She asked, almost amusedly. 

Tony shrugged. "Gregory's fine..." He just said.

She smiled and went back to examining him. "Have you been experiencing headaches since you regained consciousness? Pain? Tingling in your limbs? Dizziness? Nausea? Sight problems? Memory loss? Temporary paralysis...? The list was never-ending.

Tony honestly didn't remember. He probably had more or less suffered from all of these symptoms anyway. He just shook his head silently, hoping she wouldn't push things further. "I'm fine." He finally said.

She looked at him silently. "Your blood pressure is good, your heartbeat is steady," she paused, hesitating. "But I should really keep you in, just in case," she blurted after a moment of reflexion. 

Tony felt a shiver throughout his entire body. He shook his head in panic. "No." He rushed to say with a shuddering voice. "I don't wanna stay here. I can't."

"I really advise you against it." She said but didn't insist. "And you'll have to sign a discharge."

"I will."

She stared at him again and paused. "Look," she said in a sigh, "you were lucky this time, boy..." Her eyes looked concerned this time and a little forlorn. "It's not my place to tell you what to do or not to do with your life," she said resignedly. "And it's certainly not in my habit to make any comments or judge my patients' personal life choices... On what grounds? Who am I to do that? I'm really just here to give you medical advice and make sure you get proper treatment but... I kinda feel for you, don't know why, maybe you remind me of my son a little..." Tony stared up at her in bewilderment. "So, I'll tell you my opinion anyway," she continued. "I've been doing this for more than twenty years, now. And sadly I've seen my share of rape victims. Everyone reacts differently, you know. I've also examined countless boys or men like you, some of them lost, some of them fully aware of what they were doing, fulfilled with their life-style, happy. Some of them I've seen several times, too... I'm really not judging. I'm way past that now." She explained, without Tony's consent. "But you don't strike me as one who fits in either of these categories." She finally said, and then added, "you seem to have a really nice boyfriend, who cares about you a lot. You should be honest with him!" She concluded her unwanted lecture in a solemn tone. "And with yourself..."

Tony didn't say anything but the lecture had left a wavering feeling at the bottom of his stomach. He was given a prescription for the pain and a list of recommendations to help the healing, was forbidden to give oral sex for two weeks at least, was asked to double his prescription of preventive HIV treatment, was reminded that AIDS was not the only potential STD he could catch with his reckless behavior—as if Tony didn't already know that, was thoroughly reminded to wear protection if he were to engage in any kind of sexual activities with his boyfriend in the next two fortnights and finally, he was given a bunch of informative leaflets and cards for support groups, all kinds of paperwork addressed to rape victims, LGBTQ+ people, and a couple for drug addicts too, and he felt like vomiting again, although he had nothing left in his stomach. Why did everyone think he was raped? Tony _wasn't_ raped. He wasn't assaulted. Nothing happened that he didn't agree to, at least once, beforehand, he thought... probably. Not that he remembered much... So yeah, Tony had possibly managed to get himself sexually assaulted once or twice in his life, shit happens, and it wasn't like he hadn't deserved it anyway, but not tonight. He was sure—almost sure—possibly—sure—of it.

Why weren't they giving him a break?

He staggered out of the room, feeling dizzy, a strong headache pounding against his skull. His hand trembled when he brought it to his head. A sudden anxiety attack overwhelmed him, rising up throughout his whole body, making his heart race for a few seconds. He leant on the wall, took a deep breath, shook the bad feelings away—they were not better, nor worse than what he had felt all fucking day anyway—and set up to walk back to Steve. He threw the leaflets into the first bin he could find on his way, signed the discharge, leanrt that Steve had taken care of everything, shoved the prescription down the pocket of his boyfriend's hoodie and joined him. He could still smell him into the soft fabric, despite his own nauseating stench of booze, cum, blood and piss. He buried his nose in it one last time before Steve could see and felt a surge of happiness at the sight of him. 

Steve looked at him concernedly, something sad pooling in his eyes, and Tony felt bad. "Are you okay?" He asked and sounded awfully worried. The tone made Tony feel sick again. Steve shouldn't have to worry that much over his shitty self. He wasn't worth it.

He nodded.

"Did they give you treatment?"

Right... Maybe it was time to tell his boyfriend about being on PrEP... It wasn't like he had meant to hide it, it just never came up. He had never been the sharing type and when they had reached that kind of intimacy in their relationship, he guessed it didn't really matter anymore. Steve would insist on wearing protection anyway.

Steve was mad though. Real mad. 

Tony could see the anger flashing through his eyes. He could see his face redden—it might have been cute, in other circumstances, but not tonight—his jaw clenched. Tony could see a whole range of expressions on his face. Shock, consternation, rage, disgust...

He followed him outside, not without feeling like shit. The anxiety came back as quickly as it had left, creeping up underneath his skin, churning his stomach, choking him breathless.

"Are you having sex with someone who's positive?" It was _that_ question that made him snap out of it. 

Tony had never asked himself. Obie had made him take the preventive treatment. Almost as soon as it was available. He was the one who insisted he got tested regularly and kept tabs on him but Tony had no idea about the man's actual status. They had never worn protection. Thinking of Obie made him feel queasy, it roiled inside and rose up to his throat, burning, dizzying. He felt suddenly dirty, it tingled and scratched and crawled under his skin. 

He gave another non-response shrug as he didn't have any answers and looked away while he begged Steve to go, he didn't need another fight. Not now. "Can we go home now? I really wanna take a shower."

Steve wouldn't have it though, he jostled him and roughed him up. "Enough with the shrugs, now!"

Steve demanded the truth, Tony had none.

It escalated. Steve had always had too much rage to himself. Sometimes he couldn't contain it. Tony never minded but he'd rather feel Steve's tenderness than his rage in his touch right now. 

He wouldn't be able to get away with it with a joke, either. Bad timing obviously. Speaking of... What time was it? Tony had no idea. Steve must be exhausted... Understandable. 

His boyfriend went berserk. He shoved him, made him stumble a few step back and screamed at him. Tony laughed... because, really, he couldn't cry. 

And then Steve stopped talking, and _he_ stopped laughing, his uneasy smile faded... because he didn't like the way Steve was seeing him right now. He hated himself through Steve's eyes right now. He felt wrong and dirty—as dirty as he had felt the first time Obie laid his pervy filthy hands on him—in his eyes, like his whole existence was a mistake, like _him and Steve_ were mistake. 

His heart raced, the anxiety muted him. He had never felt so distant from him. It was such a relief when Steve put his hands on him again to suggest they go home, finally.

On the ride home, Tony pressed himself against Steve, as strong as he could, blanketing him with every part of his body that he could touch him with, but he could still feel the distance that kept pulling them apart. He could still feel his heart race with anxiety. He could still feel the uneasiness grow in his heart, festering in his chest. For the first time, Steve's presence wasn't comforting so he was glad he was still drunk, and high, and that the roaring of the engine lulled him into sleep at some point. But when he woke up again, it felt even worse. 

The nausea came back in the elevator, not because he reeked himself—he was kinda used to the smell by now, sadly—but because of Steve's repulsed face, because of his angry eyes and ominous silence. The creepy crawly feeling came back too. It itched, it scratched, it burnt. He wanted to crawl out of his skin, peel it off. He wanted to sink his nails into his skin and tear his flesh, to flay himself. Anything but the scornful stare of his boyfriend scorching him alive. 

He ran to the bathroom as soon as he got in, stripped in no time and didn't wait for the water to run hot to jump into the small shower. He let it ran down his sore limbs, thinking it would make him feel better. It didn't. Nothing did. The warmish water wasn't relaxing like it should be, it wasn't cleansing. Nothing could. He scrubbed and scrubbed with the roughest washcloth he found but the stench wouldn't go away, neither would the sickness. How could it? It came from inside, from his rotting and perverted soul. If he ever had one... He kept rubbing desperately until he gave up and broke down, leaning his head against the tiled wall, helpless. He wished he could cry. He wanted to cry so much. Instead he started hyperventilating, heart racing in panic and pounding hard in his chest. His body hurt so much. Every part hurt.

He hovered his fingers over his hole, he could feel the cum and the blood slip out of him and felt his bile rush up his throat. He felt Obie's pervy, disgusting hands on him again, he grabbed the invisible shackle around his neck. Even now he could still feel it, unbreakable, inescapable. Nothing could take the filth off of him. It was ingrained in himself. Being Obie's bitch was all he was good for, everything he deserved. He didn't deserve Steve.

He threw up again, he _made_ himself, but on an empty stomach he was just spewing bile and blood. The burning acid was excruciating on his inflamed throat. His head was spinning, he searched Steve's small bathroom cupboard for something, anything that could make him feel better. Meds, a pair of scissors, razorblades... Steve didn't even have paracetamol.

What was he doing now? He didn't wanna die. He couldn't do that to Steve.

Steve had taken his filthy clothes away and put some clean ones on a small stool while he showered, so he dried off, put them on and caught a glimpse of his bruises in the mirror. His neck was purple already. He had a few discreet ones on his face too, his lip was cut. He thought he deserved more, whoever did that to him had been too lenient.

On his way out he crossed path with his boyfriend who barely gave him an annoyed glance before hitting the shower himself, his jaw still had the tense tremor of anger. Tony felt like crying again. He felt like throwing up again. His heart twinged, squeezing so hard in his chest it cut his breathing short.

He remained unmoving in the middle of the room for a while, not knowing what to do. He saw the fridge and figured he might as well have something to drink or eat, in case he vomited again. He opened it, found some weeks old yogurt in it, figured it might help to soothe the pain in his throat. He wasn't hungry, though, on the contrary, he still felt nauseous. 

He looked at Steve's bed with his yogurt in hand. He used to love that bed so much. That bed was his sanctuary, the only place on earth where he felt safe, where he felt good about himself. 

Tony crawled into it and rolled into the covers, immersing himself into the comforting musky smell of Steve. He finally relaxed, feeling the uneasiness fade slowly. His head was spinning and hurt like a hammer was pounding his skull. He had never come down that low after crystal meth. Had he taken too much? Probably... When had he ever been reasonable anyway? He ate the yogurt without conviction, fidgety while waiting for Steve. The creepy crawly dirtiness still bothered him. He was on edge. He wanted Steve to come out so much, put his hands on him again, hold him tight, make him feel better. Maybe he would plant soft kisses on his forehead, shush him when he shivered, run slender fingers through his hair softly in a loving, comforting gesture. Maybe Tony wouldn't feel like he was rotten then. Maybe Steve would soothe the putrefying pain he felt inside. 

He needed him so much. 

He huddled around his knees and opened the computer that had been left here, searching for a distraction. He found something stupid and mind-numbing on YouTube to watch. Steve was gonna be here soon, the prospect made him smile again. He chuckled. Excitement seemed to bloom in his heart again.

Only to be trampled down by the cynical and biting tone of his boyfriend a few moments later. "What's so funny?"

Tony jerked his head up toward him, heart racing in his chest. He felt out of his own body again, unable to control it anymore, and saw his own smile die down on his lips while he felt powerless. He bit his own lips, lost, trying to find a way to reach out to him, only he kept failing spectacularly. The distance between them right now was so palpable, so painfully real.

"Nothing," He answered quietly. "Just some stupid videos on youtube." Steve's face was indecipherable and Tony watched him silently turn his back to him and fetch a beer in his fridge. He felt a pang in his chest. He wanted to cry.

He turned his eyes to the computer again, avoiding the burning angry stare of his boyfriend, hoping the videos would help take his mind off it.

"Nothing touches you, does it?" 

The sharp, biting tone felt like a blow. Tony jerked his head up again and looked into his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

Steve shook his head. His chuckle sounded mirthless. 

Why was Steve not joining him in bed? Why had he come to his rescue if he only wanted to chastise him. Tony just wanted to sleep in his arms and cuddle. They could fight tomorrow... "I was just waiting for you." He said sheepishly.

Tony's explanation landed flat though. Nothing he said seemed to calm his boyfriend's rage down.

Steve's response was biting again, and sardonic. "Really? How thoughtful!" It didn't suit him. Sarcasm was Tony's thing, not Steve's. Steve was supposed to roll his eyes and find it cute. He wasn't supposed to sound so mirthless and bitter when he spoke. "Why would you do that, though?" The words came out painfully from Steve's mouth and his stare was murderous. Tony's heart started racing to the point it hurt.

His boyfriend wiped the corner of his eye. Was he crying? Why would Steve cry? Was it Tony's fault? It must be his fault. It always was. Tony never meant to make him cry though. And the answer to that question was simple and self-evident. Steve knew that answer. Why would he ask? Unless things had changed between and Tony hadn't noticed. Was too drunk to remember... "Because you're my boyfriend?" He asked hesitantly, because he was, wasn't he? "And I wanted to sleep with you?" 

" 's that so? What made you think that I'd want to sleep with you now?"

Right. That made sense. Tony probably wouldn't want to sleep with himself either, especially after seeing the state he was in earlier, but... It wasn't like Tony had meant sex. Fucking, even with Steve, was the last thing he wanted to do right now. Did Steve really expect him to want sex now? Did Steve want sex now? If he truly wanted it, Tony would do it though. "I meant sleep next to you." He rectified.

"Whatever, Tony..." Steve said while glancing at him sidelong and gulped down his beer. "I'm not sleeping next to you." 

Tony flinched. He felt those last words piercing through his heart like an arrow and started shuddering all over as panic and anxiety came back at once, engulfing him into a dark and putrid place. A place he had thought he would never go back to. He didn't want to go back. He felt his hands tremble and huddled on himself, squeezing tight around his knees to force the shaking away. He tried to subdue his breathing but he was starting to hyperventilate again. Why did Steve bring him here? Why didn't he leave him with those guys? Why didn't he dump his ass in a ditch, where Tony belonged to, if he didn't want him? Obie had. Everyone else had.

Steve was supposed to help him feel better, not worse. If he didn't want him then he should have left him to die or whatever. Tony felt like scratching his skin off again, he wanted to hurt the outside as much as the inside hurt. He wanted to feel as ugly outside as he felt inside. He wanted scream out but he couldn't. Each sound got stuck in his throat. "Why?" He managed to ask in a painful, shuddering breath. 

Steve remained silent through. And Steve's silence were upsetting. The Steve that Tony knew was a bundle of nerve, quick to react, never at a loss for angry words. Tony would rather he told him what he wanted to say. He'd rather be yelled at, get bawled out, get hit or beaten up, anything. Anything other than this incomprehensible and bitter silence. "Are you mad?" He asked timidly. The words were scorching his throat. 

"No, of course not." Steve was sarcastic again and it sounded awful in his voice. "Why would I be? It's not like I had better things to do than roaming around the city at night to come and rescue your shitty self. This is what I do, right? I save the day!" 

No-one asked him to do that, though. 

"That's what you said, right?" Steve kept on, sounding as biting and bitter as before but with a tinge of humor. "Captain America saved the day again..."

Steve's lighter tone unclenched something in him and the joke was just plenty silly but it suited Steve so well. Tony felt a sudden surge of love and admiration for his boyfriend. Captain America, what a stupid nickname... Had he come up with that himself? When did that happen? He didn't even remember. He barely remembered anything from the past six hours or so. He just laughed because he could picture Steve, in all his glorious heroism, wrapped up in the American flag, saving he day. His heart tingled with childish worship. "Can you blame me?" He said in a light chuckle.

They were finally able to chat. For a moment he even thought he had managed to soften Steve's features and that the atmosphere between them had eased a little but rapidly the light chitchat turned sour and Steve found the way to turn everything Tony said into a reason to chastise him again until Tony found himself huddled and prostrate, nervously tightening his arms around his knees, his heart pounding hard and uncomfortably in his chest while he avoided his boyfriend's glare. The distance between them now was agonizing. Steve felt like a stranger when Tony only wanted one thing, be in his arms. He searched his eyes, trying to find a trace of his boyfriend in the death glare the man in front of him was giving him. "Thank you," he whispered, meaning every fucking word, "for saving me." 

"Why are you thanking me?" Steve snapped and then squashed every attempt Tony made to reach out to him. Tony could take care of himself, alright. He just really really liked when Steve did it but not even a little self-deprecating joke could ease the tension this time.

Steve stopped talking and the silence festered. Tony rested his chin on his knees, heart pounding so hard it was hurting his ribs. He wondered why he hadn't already left. Obviously Steve didn't want him here. He was just hoping, stupidly hoping, that just for tonight, just for the few remaining hours before day came, Steve would hold him one more time before giving up on him. Just for the sake of their history, just because right now he was feeling horrible for no reasons, or maybe a thousand ones, he wasn't sure. Just because the mere idea of being out there, alone, without Steve, and dealing with everything he was much too sober to deal with made him want to jump out of the window. His breathing hitched as anxiety and terror hit him again.

Did that mean Tony had maybe hit rock bottom?

"Why didn't you, then?" Steve finally asked, interrupting his self-flagellating train of thoughts.

He startled. "Why didn't I what?" 

"Take care of yourself." Steve specified. "If you know how to fight, then why didn't you?" Steve was sitting now, eyes intent on him, staring defiantly. "Why did you let them treat you like this?"

It took him a moment to realize what and who Steve was talking about. He had a very vague, blurred and distorted idea of what Steve was referring to and the question was very specific. Tony felt a shiver down his spine. Why had he let them treat him like this? He had absolutely no answer to that question. Wasn't he supposed to? Was he supposed to fight them back? What for? Who were _they_ exactly? What kind of answers did Steve expect really? _Why?_

He felt nauseous again. Why did everyone keep making him feel that way? A sudden unquenchable urge to cry constricted his throat, almost choking him. He parted his lips, trying to swallow the lump stuck in there, trying to _breathe,_ and he stared at his boyfriend helplessly, paralyzed with shame. Why did Tony let people treat him like this? What the fuck did he know? What did that even _mean_ ? Why did Steve keep insisting on talking about this now?

Tony was lost. He just blinked and shrugged.

"So I guess, I'll have to interpret it then, is that it?" Steve insisted, anger pervaded in his voice. Tony couldn't hold his stare anymore and looked down in shame. Tony had never felt that much shame before. After everything he had done, after all the things others had done to him. Nothing and no-one could shame him. Except Steve apparently. "So I reckon if you didn't stop them even if you could have, it means that you wanted it, right?" There was a pause. "Did you want it?"

Tony felt another shiver. Want ? Of course he didn’t want it was his first reaction. It wasn’t a question of wanting or not wanting, was it ? The anguish he felt inside was putrefying, slowly turning into rage. Why did Steve keep asking him stupid questions he didn’t have the answers to **?**

"Take your fucking time to answer," Steve spat again, sounding cold and bitter. " 'cause I really have the whole fucking night." 

Tony felt his stomach roil and was shaking inside. A sudden acute pain in his chest.

Steve was drunk, and he was a bitter drunk at that, seeing him like this broke Tony’s heart. He watched his boyfriend trying pathetically, and failing, to swallow his beer to the last drop like an alcoholic and then staggering to the fridge when he finally realized it was empty, to grab another.

"You sure you should be drinking right now?" He attempted.

Steve’s laugh was mirthless. "Why do you care?" He snapped, drinking from his new beer.

"Aren't you supposed to have your vernissage tomorrow?" Tony asked timidly.

"Oh. He remembers!" Steve snarked, making sure Tony remembered how much of an asshole he had been tonight from the tone of his voice. Tony swallowed and shut his mouth. What could he say anyway?

"Don't try to make me forget that you didn't answer my question."

Tony huddled on himself, wishing he could crawl into a hole and never get out. He felt another shiver down his spine and the twinge in his heart intensified. "What do you want me to answer?"

Steve yelled.

" _I don't know, Tony!_ How about the fucking _truth,_ for once!"

Tony looked down and shrugged, avoiding his boyfriend's furious stare. "I don't know." He whispered, forcing the words out of his throat painfully.

Steve was _mad._

Why was he mad? He wanted him to tell the truth and when Tony told him the truth he got even madder. Tony shuddered all over and squeezed his arms around his knees. He stared at his boyfriend, bewildered, helpless, lost for words. What could say now? What did Steve want from him? No matter what he did or said he would keep losing this argument.

"You _don't_ know? _"_ Steve retorted curtly. "What is it that you don't know? You don't know why you didn't stop them? You don't know if you _wanted_ it? You don't if you _liked_ it? What is it?" 

Tony shrugged again, for lack of a better option. A poor choice of action, obviously.

Steve went berserk.

And Tony gasped, in fear, _stunned._

For the first time since he had met him, Steve frightened him. Next to him, barely a few inches from his head, was dripping the beer from the can his boyfriend had just thrown at him. He felt the fear creeping up underneath his skin like a parasite. He stared at his boyfriend haggardly, Steve's hands were shaking. Tony knew that rage, he knew that glow that was burning in Steve's eyes. He knew that violence. He had seen it countless times, in his father's eyes. 

It wasn't the first time Tony got things thrown at him. His father had always had this nasty habit, except his didn't miss his shots. Tony had a little scar right underneath his left eye, inconspicuous if you didn't know about it, remainder of a pair of scissors that almost blinded him once. His mind started drifting away and float out of his own body, escaping. He could see Steve spewing at him but couldn't hear the words. He could only see his boyfriend's mouth moving uglily on his distorted features and his own pitiful form, huddled on itself, cowardly.

It was Steve's threatening finger that snapped him out of it. "I want fucking answers, Tony." He growled.

Tony felt the rage shake himself to the core. The one he was too fucking scared to let out. He narrowed his eyes and glared at his boyfriend, trying to control himself. Steve wanted answers but he couldn't handle the truth so Tony told him what he wanted to hear. That was something he had had the opportunity to practice for a long long time. Tony could lie through his teeth unashamedly. He knew exactly what to say to stab right where it hurt.

"What do you want to me say, Steve? That I wanted it?" Tony was looking straight at him, heart racing in his chest. "Yeah." He said. "I did. That I liked it?" He kept going, his eyes intent on Steve. "Maybe I did." He whispered, forcing the words out of his mouth.

Obviously that wasn't the answer that Steve expected, or maybe Tony had hit too hard. "You liked it..." Steve choked out, almost breathless. "You _liked_ it?" 

Tony shrugged, looking away, and pouted. Maybe he had. He was fucked up like that. He didn't even know what Steve was talking about, anyway....

"You liked it when they fucked your throat until you bled? You _liked_ it when they made you drink their piss?"

The despise in Steve's voice made him shiver. So what if he had? What if he _was_ that guy? It wasn't like Steve didn't know about him. "It was fun." He justified himself, pouting a little. Why did he need to justify himself? "We were just having fun."

Steve let out a bitter laugh. "This is your idea of _fun?_ Getting pissed on?"

The words stung like daggers. Tony wanted to cry again. He thought of Obie, pissing in his mouth, offering it as a parting gift, and his own cock, rock hard at the humiliation. He wanted to scratch his skin off again, cut the inside of his arms and bleed. And what if he _wasn't_ that guy, after all? What if he hated it? And why did he feel so dirty when Steve was looking at him like that?

He felt a tremor in his jaw but couldn't do anything other than stare helplessly at his boyfriend who glared back at him, seeing him like the trash he was, eyes filled with hatred and disgust. 

He didn't recognize him.

"Should I take that as a _yes?"_ Steve said, smiling mirthlessly. "Well if that's so, then I guess I really should apologize for interrupting you guys." 

Tony felt his heart waver, all sorts of unwanted feelings roiling inside. Disappointment, anger, fear, _self-hatred._ He couldn't bear looking at his boyfriend right now, he couldn't bear the look in his eyes, he couldn't bear the hatred and the violence in them, so he looked away. Just like he looked away every time his father took it out on him when he was a kid. He looked away and waited, waited for it to be over.

Tony had thought Steve was different.

But he was just like everyone else, like his father, like Obie, like every fucking guy Tony got the hots for. He got his kicks out of hurting Tony. Except Steve was crying when he hurt him.

"You don't fucking care, do you?" He heard the breathless whispered painfully choked out of his boyfriend's mouth. The hurt is Steve's voice was agonizing. "You don't care about anything." Oh he was way past caring by now. "I don't get you."

What was supposed to happen then happened, as expected. Steve slapped him, hit his head against the wall, smashed his face into the bricks. It hurt, a little. But if Steve was expecting him to cry and to beg him to stop he could always wait. There was nothing Steve could do to him that hadn't already been done to him tenfold. Tony waited. Of course, probably, in theory, he could defend himself and push Steve away. Except he didn't. He never did. He just waited. If Steve wanted to hurt him, if his dad wanted to hurt him, if Obie or some random guy wanted to hurt him then so be it. Tony's whole existence was meant for that purpose anyway.

Tony was out of it when his boyfriend demanded answers.

He was out of it when his boyfriend insulted him, mostly. Although Steve's words hurt more than any blow Tony had ever received from anyone.

He was out of it, too, when his boyfriend pinned him to the bed and when he straddled him. Was he gonna fuck him now? Tony wasn't even sure he would be able to stop him if he did... He would just take it, clench his jaw and close his heart and take it. He just wished Steve would stop crying when he did so. 

He hated seeing Steve cry.

Steve crying made him want to cut his wrists.

"Get up." Steve ordered with a low hateful voice but Tony only reacted when Steve jabbed him. "Get up!" Steve repeated with more rage.

He looked up, eyes questioning. The gentler tone of his voice startled him. Tony hated gentle. Gentleness confused him. Gentleness sounded like Obie when he was torturing him and humiliating him.

"You wanna have fun? Let's have fun!"

Tony felt a pang in his chest, a shiver ran down his spine. He was suddenly terrified and confused. This was not Steve. Steve wasn't like that and for a few second Tony instinctively grabbed his boyfriend's wrist in a futile attempt at protecting himself from him. Why would he do something like that though? It had never worked before, had it? 

He wasn't in any position to refuse Steve anything anyway. Steve wanted to have fun, Tony would give him what he wanted. And maybe then, later, when Steve was satisfied and not angry with him anymore, Steve would accept to sleep with him again and cuddle him and Tony would be able to forget. 

Tony thought he hesitated too long, because his boyfriend was losing patience. He grabbed his arm and dragged him to the bathroom, manhandling him like Obie had done some time ago. Tony had always thought he would never be able to stand up to Obie because he had always been impressively built compared to him, but apparently, it wasn't a question of size. Tony was about a head taller and had almost fifty pounds on Steve. That didn't prevent him from being hurled against the tiled wall of the bathroom where he easily and obediently glided down to find his rightful place, next to the toilet bowl, where he belonged. 

"I wanna have fun too." Steve said, pressing his face hard into the tiles and then brutally pulling his chin back to face him. "Open your mouth."

What did Steve want? Piss in his mouth too? Shove his limp dick down his bleeding throat? Hit him? Whatever it was, it didn't look like fun at all. Not that any of those things had ever really been fun to Tony but at least, he thought, it was fun for the other party. 

He was confused. 

Steve's angry eyes pooled with something worse than rage. They were _sad._

Steve looked sad. He looked _miserable._ He looked like he was _in pain_ and every particle of Tony's being agonized at the sight of him. Steve's hand was shaky and hesitant when he slapped him again, even though Tony felt the blow resonate in his entire body and the burn spread, igniting the very present pain he was already feeling. 

The words were worse though. Not that being called a whore and treated like trash had ever had any impact on Tony. Story of his life, really. They just sounded wrong in Steve's voice. They didn't belong in Steve's voice. They were forced out and heart-wrenching and his boyfriend looked like he was playing a part, like his whole body disagreed with it.

Tony felt an agonizing pain in his heart. Not a physical one, or maybe it was real, he wasn't sure because he couldn't breathe anymore. He felt his entire self shudder with fear but the reluctance in Steve's demeanor unsettled him and for the first time he found it in himself to fight back. He narrowed his eyes, focusing his glare on the man who was supposed to be his boyfriend and shower him with love and affection but kept hurting him again and again. "Do you really want me to?" 

Because if Steve did, really, Tony would give him anything, anything he wanted. Tony would chop his dick off if Steve asked him to. He had said that before, hadn't he?

He felt so cold suddenly. Cold and terrified and alone. And Steve just stood there, petrified. "Of course not," he muttered, sounding horrified. 

Steve was crying again.

Tony couldn't handle Steve crying. Every time he heard a sob or a sniffle he wanted to scream in agony, to tear off his hair and gouge his eyes out, cut his wrists and the inside of his thighs, just like he did when he was a kid. Why did Steve have so little hair and no razorblades in his bathroom? Steve should really have razorblades in his bathroom, so the next time he broke down in front of Tony, _because_ of Tony, he could make himself bleed until the pain in his chest went away.

He broke Steve. 

Why did he do that to him? Had he been a better person he would have left a long time ago. He should have kept to the darkness he belonged to instead of tainting Steve's purity with his filth. He should have gotten out of his air. He should have never given him his number. He should have never tried to talk to him. He should have never tried to look at him. Tony wasn't supposed to look at him anyway, at anyone really. Tony was supposed to look down and be used. Not the other way around.

But he pushed his luck too far. And he broke Steve... he had _broken_ him. Steve was broken. 

How had he managed to do that? Steve was so fucking strong. 

His father was right after all, Tony was meant for greater achievements. 

Steve said he was toxic. Of course he was. He was a mistake, a disease that should have never happened and should be wiped out from the face of the earth, this instant. How could he have thought, even for a moment, that he could ever have this? Steve had almost managed to trick him into thinking he deserved it at some point. Steve was too good, too generous, too loving and Tony had needed him. Tonight more than anything. He had needed him so much. Tony was too needy. He had no right to be, he should disappear.

Steve wanted him gone anyway. 

But he should not worry, he was not the only one who hated himself in Tony's presence. Tony hated himself too. He just wished he could be free from his own existence but the feasibility of it was a bit tricky. He could free Steve from him though.

Tony felt different however. As opposed to Steve, he loved everything they were. He had loved every bit of it. Every moment. Every word. Every touch. Every look. And if he survived this, he would cherish those memories for the rest of his miserable and pathetic life. 

Steve was huddled on himself, rocking like a maniac. Tony wish he could hold him into his arms and take his pain away but he was toxic and no-one needed the likes of him. 

Had Tony ever mentioned how he never truly believed he had heart or a soul? Well, he still was quite skeptical about the soul but he had a heart, alright. He used to have one, at least, because right now he could stare at it, shattered all over Steve's bathroom's floor into thousand pieces. Tony wouldn't pick them up, he just left the task to Steve. Steve could do whatever he wanted with it. They belonged to him now, had always. Hopefully Steve was strong and sane enough to throw them away with the trash.

Steve wanted him gone so Tony left. He grabbed his phone and credit cards left by Steve on his worktable and he left. He wasn't even sure he put on shoes. He hesitated, for a long moment, between the door and the window. The window really was an appealing option. At this height, there was a chance Tony would die of a heart-attack before his body touched the ground. Although Tony deserved a horrible and painful death. A heart-attack sounded too good for him, too quick, too lenient. Tony needed to suffer before he died. He needed to pay for what he did to Steve. This was too easy and if Tony was going to kill himself he should at least have the decency not to bother Steve with it. That sounded like a petty revenge, Steve deserved better than that from him. 

He walked out the door instead, suffocated in agony in the elevator and refrained the impulse to throw himself under the wheels of that car. Or maybe someone caught him by the shoulder before he did. 

He needed a drink.

Right. Drink first. Then get high. Then plan for avenging Steve. Or how to make Tony suffer and die a horribly painful and agonizing death.

Tony knew exactly what he had to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to the few of you who took the time to leave encouraging comments or kudos. I am forever grateful! :)
> 
> Note aside: I have absolutely no medical knowledge whatsoever, nor about the procedures in these cases. Things happen this way because it suits the story. Sorry for the lack of plausibility. Didn't mean to offend anyone.


End file.
